The Striker
by V'Kotik
Summary: A non-canon pre-launch Enterprise story. Ambassadorial Aide T'Pol is not happy with the workout facilities in the Vulcan Compound and tries out for a football team (Soccer for those on the other side of the pond)
1. Don't Try This At Home

_Sausalito, March 1st 2149_

"You have to reconsider, T'Pol-_kan_!" the venerable Ambassador pleaded. "We have most sophisticated equipment in the embassy to satisfy your need for exercise."

"With all due respect, _Tela'at_," she replied calmly, holding her superior's gaze. "First of all, to use a human expression, I am sick of running in the same spot for hours on the treadmill. It is repetitive and fairly limited in which muscle groups are exercised. I wish for a more comprehensive workout. I have gained one point two-five-six kilograms of weight since I arrived here. At sixty-four years of age I'm not quite prepared to start looking like you."

"Child!" Soval admonished her for the unseemly address.

"Is it logical to weigh more than what is healthy, Ambassador?" she answered defiantly, knowing that she was close to insubordination. "The training facilities in the compound are deficient."

She saw the Ambassador sigh and sit down, shooting an uncharacteristically unconcealed look of exasperation at her.

"Had I known what challenge your late father would impose on me by making me your _En'ahr'at _I would have declined to accept the privilege T'Pol-_kan_. What logic lies in donning armor and brutalizing an opponent – or being brutalized yourself?"

"Is this your attempt at human sarcasm, _Tela'at_?" she asked back. "As for the combat – you apparently never saw a game of football before or you would know that no combat is involved. There is competition, sometimes mildly physical, but the goal is not to cause injury or death."

"I did watch it," the Ambassador said and started a playback of a recording on the computer opposite him, evidently to lend weight to his words. "That is why I oppose the idea."

T'Pol watched the recorded game and looked at her superior, wondering if he was suffering from age-induced dementia. "_Tela'at_. This is not football. The ball in this game is mainly played by hand and has the shape of an egg, so logic dictates that this game should be called 'hand-egg', not football. Football is played with a spherical ball and using the feet only, as the name implies."

"You refer to soccer, child," he replied drily, apparently understanding where the communication error had occurred.

"No, _tela'at_, I refer to football. I witnessed the game countless times during my basic human cultural training at the London Institute."

"Humans are not logical creatures, T'Pol," her _en'ahr'at_ explained calmly. "On this continent they call that particular game 'soccer', because for reasons that elude my understanding they gave the name 'football' to _this_ game." He indicated the recording still going forward on the monitor. "But this does not matter. Your choice of the other game would indeed be more civilized, but it would require you to wear clothing that is...," he hesitated. "Minimal at best. And it does not appear to be an activity becoming a female even if human females indeed engage in it."

The young Vulcan closed her eyes as her instinctive reaction was a most unseemly snort of sarcasm, but she caught and suppressed it in time.

"I do not wish to be confrontational, _tela'at_, but what difference does the attire make? In fact the clothing used during the game might be of smaller size, but it obscures the shape of my body more than our uniforms do. I submit that I will garner less unwanted appreciation from human males wearing the competitive apparel. Seeing my exposed legs and arms will surely not inflame their 'imagination'."

For the second time her superior and paternal _En'ahr'at _failed to hide his consternation.

"Now I understand why V'Nur always maintained that you would have an answer to everything. Apparently I cannot convince you to forgo this immersion in human activities, but answer me one question. As neither San Francisco nor Sausalito have a female's soccer team, where do you wish to play?"

"Sausalito has a professional team – the 'Sausalito Mariners', which plays in the second division. In absence of a dedicated female's team, I wish to try out for the male's team. I suggest that Vulcan physiology enables me to be competitive in such an arena, since my natural strength is equivalent to that of the average human male."

"It was _his_ idea, was it not?" the ambassador asked in a heightened voice. "This... acquaintance of yours – the human engineer."

"If you refer to Lieutenant Tucker then you are mistaken. Indeed he did invite me to watch one of the team's games and was most helpful in explaining the parts of the competitive rules to me that I had not yet fully understood. Yet the impetus to join them was mine, as I was less than impressed by the performance of one of their players and determined that I could perform the task with more accuracy."

"Overestimation of one's own ability is an emotional indulgence, T'Pol-_kan_," the gray-haired Ambassador warned her, but T'Pol was not prepared to concede the point.

"I have carefully evaluated my own ability at the activity. I will neither shame myself nor the Vulcan people by being inept."

"I have a great deal to consider in meditation," the Ambassador said and left the office in what T'Pol thought to be unusual haste, if not – to use the human expression – 'a huff'.

=/\=

"Hi there."

"Good afternoon Lieutenant," T'Pol said to the young human, who had apparently waited for her outside the Vulcan compound. Without further communication she started walking towards the park, the human walking alongside.

It had been three weeks since she had met the young alien male in her capacity as a member of the Embassy delegation that oversaw the human engineering projects. For reasons she could not explain, she had spent time nearly every day in spirited debate with the engineer and after several days she had accepted his invitation to spend the afternoon together if their schedules permitted. As a result they had done so exactly nine times since then.

He was a most skilled engineer, something that she knew already from the reports she had read before reporting for duty at the Vulcan embassy two months ago, but she had seen him 'in action' and had determined that, if anything, the reports did not reflect the full extent of his talent. As the humans had started to build their first warp five vessel, scheduled to be finished within the next two years, she thought that whoever would be the captain, he or she would be remiss not to select this human as the chief engineer.

Today was such a joint afternoon again and she was wondering what the human would suggest as an activity this time. He had once taken her on a 'sightseeing tour', a predefined circular journey through San Francisco that served the purpose of introducing the interested to any landmarks the humans deemed noteworthy. Another time he had invited her to a human restaurant, sensibly one that served a substantial variety of vegetarian meals, and afterwards he had taken her to watch a football game of the _Sausalito Mariners. _

Through conversation with a human language instructor, a very young female named Hoshi Sato, who had helped her learn the human standard language, she knew that these recurring meetings were called 'dates' and that her being invited repeatedly to join him on them was a sign of romantic interest on the part of the human male. Since she was already betrothed to a Vulcan male, however disagreeably, reciprocating the romantic interest was not possible, yet somehow she could not bring herself to demand cessation of these activities – or even mention, at some convenient moment, the existence of that betrothal contract.

Not only was the lieutenant's company rather agreeable, it also allowed her to leave the confines of the Vulcan Embassy, safe in the knowledge that she was accompanied by someone knowledgeable about the alien planet's customs.

"It didn't go well, did it?" the human asked, abruptly ending her contemplation.

"Ambassador Soval did not approve of the idea," she replied dryly. "He considers it unbecoming a female."

His eyebrows quirked up interrogatively. "So what will you do?"

"My planned course of action does not require the Ambassador's approval."

The human laughed and she was reminded of how agreeable she found this sound. Laughing was not unknown to Vulcans, but it would only occur with individuals suffering from _Bendii_ disease, like her father's uncle V'Cren, who in old age had his emotional control eradicated by the debilitating illness. Hearing a human laugh, more specifically this particular human, was a much more agreeable sensation, knowing that it was normal, even desirable, for them.

"So you're set on goin' through with it?"

"Of course I am, Lieutenant. I do, however, need to acquire the necessary apparel. I believe you offered your assistance with that."

"Yes I did," the human replied, his amused admiration for her determination apparent. "And a Tucker isn't goin' back on his word. There's an Intersport shop right around the corner. Let's go."

=/\=

"What can I do for you Ambassador?"

"I am not here in an official function, Maxwell, so we can resume our agreement to address each other by name in private," Soval said, taking a seat on the chair his human host had indicated.

"Ok, so what is it Soval? I know you don't like being called out for it, but you look a bit... upset."

"I am indeed unsettled. I believe you know T'Pol, my new aide?" Soval asked, carefully observing the human's reaction.

"Sure. People tell me she's rather easily approachable and you know this hasn't been the strong point of your staff for quite a while."

The Vulcan nodded acceptance of the compliment, taking the implied criticism within it with trained ease; it was, after all, a justified complaint.

"Indeed. It is unfortunate that I am forced to rely on aides like Tos. He is suited to many functions, but an Ambassadorial aide is not one of them." He relished the sound of his friend's laughter, suppressing a faint, unworthy twinge of regret that Vulcan manners did not allow him to indulge in such informality himself.

"I am, however, concerned by how far T'Pol wants to immerse herself in human customs," he continued, a little reluctantly. "In fact, she wants to join the local soccer team, despite the fact that it is a male's team."

"Tell me she's trying out for striker!" the human demanded, and Soval was taken aback by the unexpected reply. "God, Gonzales is shit. He couldn't hit a barn door from two yards out!"

Soval looked at his companion, knowing that his expression was probably not as neutral as Vulcan decorum demanded. Maxwell's whole demeanor had transformed; it was obvious that the news interested him deeply – unfortunately not in the way that had been anticipated. Indeed, the human was looking eagerly at his watch.

"Soval, the tryouts are today at seventeen hundred. That's two hours from now. Your shuttle still here?"

"It is indeed."

"Good, let's go!"

Well, it was not exactly what he had expected, but it seemed churlish to refuse. Moderating his response to a mild raising of the eyebrows, Soval stood back to allow his suddenly animated friend to precede him from the room.

=/\=

"Umm, well, ma'am, that's a thing you'll have to buy on your own," the human said with obvious unease. "The sports bras are up that aisle."

"A... 'bra'?" she asked, not quite understanding what her companion was referring to.

"A... well... support for... those," the engineer explained, his face flushing with a deep red tinge. As he stammered his explanation his cupped hands hinted at lifting mammary features that males of neither species possessed.

"My breasts will not need support, Lieutenant," she explained, not really understanding why the human suddenly had such problems communicating. "Earth's gravity is lower than that of my planet."

"They're still going to bounce around," a female voice said from behind, and T'Pol turned to see the young linguist – Hoshi Sato.

"I'm sorry to barge in, I just happened to overhear your conversation. The lieutenant is right, you'll need a sports bra if you engage in anything that requires fast movement." She darted a look that was bright with amused sympathy at the clearly embarrassed engineer.

"Since Lieutenant Tucker is obviously uncomfortable with the subject, would you help me procure such an item, Miss Sato?"

"Sure," the young human said and T'Pol saw in the easy way she and the lieutenant smiled at each other that the two of them had obviously met before.

=/\=

"Maxwell, does this garment have any particular importance?" Soval asked.

The Admiral had directed the shuttle towards his own residence, where the human had changed into a garishly colored blue jacket and adorned himself and his guest with a scarf that read 'Mariners Forever'. The bemused Vulcan inspected the woolen item around his neck. It was the same garish blue as his friend's jacket.

The transformation in his friend's manner appeared, if anything, to have grown more pronounced. His whole manner exuded enthusiasm. "Soval, we are not going to a Mariners tryout without fan gear and hell, if you've seen it, maybe you'll accept T'Pol's choice. Alternatively there's of course the chance that she won't make the team, in which case your worries are unfounded."

"She _will '_make the team'," Soval insisted, surprising himself by the forcefulness of his statement.

"'Nother one caught the Mariners bug," the human said, laughing.

=/\=

"Are you here by accident?" T'Pol asked, looking at herself in the mirror. She had tried on the proposed item, while the young human female waited outside.

"Yes and no," the human answered cryptically. "Actually I was planning to come here, but not till later; but when I saw the two of you enter, I changed my route and came here first. It's the first time I've ever seen a Vulcan enter a sports shop."

"If I may ask," the Vulcan replied, taking off the garment again, "do you know Lieutenant Tucker?"

"We've met," the other woman replied, and T'Pol could hear from the vocal inflection that her conversation partner was uncomfortable with the question.

She pushed the curtain of the changing booth aside.

"You do not need to worry, Miss Sato; if you have any intimate designs on Lieutenant Tucker..."

Her sentence was rudely interrupted by the young human violently shutting the curtains again, with a yelp of,

"Good grief, T'Pol, you're half-naked!"

"I apologize. Is this offensive among humans?" she asked, donning her T-shirt and stepping out of the booth again. The thought of having unwittingly offended her human friend Charles was a surprisingly dismaying one.

"Not an offense," the young linguist said and T'Pol could see that the human female was trying hard not to laugh. "But look."

She looked. At some considerable distance she could see Lieutenant Tucker staring at her in shock.

"You've just given the poor guy a view he's going to dream about for weeks and you've given _me _an inferiority complex."

"So humans are... inconvenienced... by seeing an unclothed body," T'Pol stated the obvious.

"Not so much 'inconvenienced' as ... 'aroused'," the young human replied, her face somewhat pink – a color similar to but not as extreme as she had seen on the lieutenant's earlier. "Nature hardwired males to... react, especially if one looks as spectacular as you do. Are you trying to say Vulcans don't mind?"

"Many do mind," T'Pol explained. "But many others don't. The body is merely a shell to house our _katra_. I believe humans call it 'a soul'."

"Well, I think I know which camp you belong to," the linguist said with visible amusement as they walked towards the human male, who was still standing frozen in place, and who seemed – for some inexplicable reason – to suddenly find it difficult to meet her eyes .

=/\=

"I will take my leave for the tryouts, Lieutenant," T'Pol said to her human companion. "You are not obliged to wait for me if it does not fit your schedule."

"I'll be here," he replied absent-mindedly. He had been this way since they had left the sportswear shop. Thankfully Miss Sato had spontaneously decided to accompany them. T'Pol wasn't altogether sure if Lieutenant Tucker would be able to function without supervision.

She could not understand why a short exposure of her unclothed torso had unsettled the human like that. She had witnessed several hazardous situations in the human warp five complex. Lieutenant Tucker had never been... unsettled by any of those.

Clearly, she reflected, human psychology required more study.

She entered the changing room that was marked 'women' and changed into the newly acquired attire. The 'sports bra' made her bust appear much smaller than it was, but she was grateful for Miss Sato's advice. The tissue would indeed have caused disruption if allowed to move freely – particularly if the lieutenant's disproportionate reaction was typical of all males of his species. Instead the delicate flesh was now being held in place by the restrictive garment. They had procured a combination of white pants and a blue shirt in reference to the team's official colors, reckoning that she only needed one set. If she was accepted into the team, she would be issued official apparel.

And she _would_ be accepted.

=/\=

The ball sailed the 25 meters to the goal, struck and felled the goalkeeper. Loud laughter from the human players accompanied the event.

"Erm, Miss T'Pol, how am I going to put it...," the human coach started gesticulating erratically, visibly barely able to keep his composure. "That was one hell of a free kick, but that was a _medicine ball_. You just knocked our goalie unconscious with a six kilogram shell!"

"That was deliberate, you jerk!" an angry voice called from behind and before T'Pol could assess the changed situation, she saw the human coach's collar in the iron grip of a clearly enraged human engineer. "What was the goddamn plan? You wanted her to break her ankle, just so you could laugh at her?"

The team suddenly fell silent. Apparently some of the players had been privy to what must have been some kind of cruel trap.

"Time to own up, coach." The player with the number six on his shirt spoke up, and T'Pol could tell he was not pleased with himself. "The man's right."

Silence ensued. In it, the man stepped forward, a resolute look on his narrow face under sweat-damp dark hair.

"I apologize ma'am. My name is Malcolm Reed, defensive mid-fielder. I was skeptical about it like all of us. We don't know anything about Vulcans and when we were told that one was trying out for the team, and a woman at that, we all went along with the coach's idea. I'm truly sorry. We were blithering idiots, and you could have been badly hurt. Bloody hell, though, after that shot I hope you don't try out for the opposition."

"Speak for yourself, Limey!" a rather robustly-built player replied.

T'Pol could see that the team was divided. About half of the players agreed with Mr. Reed's sentiment, the others maintained rather loudly that this was not a place for a Vulcan, much less a woman.

She observed with some regret that the unconscious goalkeeper still had not moved as he was stretchered away; doubtless as he had not expected her to impart such force to the ball, he had not been sufficiently prepared to avoid it. While the lieutenant's attention was distracted by the general confusion, she took the chance to gently remove his hand from the coach's collar. Surprisingly he offered no protest; his rage appeared to be cooling.

"Well, without a goalie we can't continue anyway. Francis is out for at least six weeks and the second one just got knocked out, too," one of the players said despondently.

"I'm not Lew Yashin, but I played goalkeeper a few times when I was younger," the engineer said. "Should do for training purposes."

"Al_right..!" _Renewed hope filled the faces around them.

"Tucker," the engineer filled in for the coach, though not without a glower that said nothing had been forgotten.

"Tucker. There's a locker full of kit in room three. You should find something your size."

"Be right back."

=/\=

"This was a deliberate slight was it not?" Soval asked, in one of the spectators' seats a short distance away, and Maxwell knew the Vulcan was seething beneath that strictly controlled exterior.

"But boy did she show them up," he answered, not quite able to enjoy the satisfaction as much as he would have liked to. It was embarrassing to have had a human team behave in such an ungentlemanly manner and he'd have a word with the management come next morning. Pulling a stunt like this in the presence of the Vulcan Ambassador was more than stupid; it was just plain idiotic, and could have serious diplomatic repercussions.

"I am confused. T'Pol insinuated she knew the game. She should have known that this was not a legitimate ball."

"Soval, could _you_ see that the thing weighed six kilograms?" Forest asked.

"Of course not."

"Neither could T'Pol. She's seen games, but no training. How was she supposed to know that it isn't a training device? If I remember correctly, the staffs you use for _Suus Mannah_ training look a hell of a lot different from an actual _lirpa_."

"Indeed," the Vulcan conceded. "But why would the human try to deliberately sabotage the proceedings?"

"It's not the coach," Maxwell sighed. "This club is owned by Peter Monrovich, a guy who thinks that if your wife looks out of the window, it means her leash is too long. He doesn't even have a beef with T'Pol being Vulcan. It's the fact that she is female..."

"Has there been no precedent?" the Ambassador asked back.

"Well there _almost_ was. Once. And even that was more than one hundred and forty years ago. An Italian team called AC Perugia tried to contract the most famous female player at the time, but she declined. That's as close as it ever got."

"So do I understand that T'Pol is the first female to play in a male's team?"

"She didn't make the team yet, Soval."

"She will."

Maxwell hid his smile behind his scarf. The Vulcan truly had caught the Mariners bug.

=/\=

"Alright," the coach decreed. "two teams, on one goal. Reed, you select Team One, Moose, you select Team Two."

"T'Pol," the human called Reed demanded instantly, and T'Pol walked up to him. Passing by the other players, she could see the disdainful looks of the enormous human called 'Moose'.

One after the other, team mates were nominated and when the teams were complete the four non-nominees left the field.

"T'Pol, I want you to play striker. What are your strengths?" Reed inquired.

"I do not know. I never played competitively."

"Well if that shot was anything to go by, you're good at long range shots. We'll try that," the human decided.

=/\=

"Goddammit, what a hit!" Maxwell screamed after T'Pol had thumped home a massive volley from thirty yards out. "Retire Gonzalez! There's your striker!"

Soval stood up in shock and anger, accompanied by a loud "What the _fuck?_" from his human companion, after the Vulcan female was fouled badly by the towering human from the opposing team – the one they called 'Moose'. Gracefully she got back to her feet again, though it was visible afterwards that she was limping slightly from the hard contact.

Mere minutes later T'Pol was rushing towards the goal, steering the ball with her foot, when she was brought crashing down again after being illegally attacked a second time by the enormous human. Although her human team mates helped her up, it was clear that she was again in pain. The coach, acting as a referee, called a situation Maxwell referred to as a 'free kick' – clearly some form of penalty for the foul play.

The Ambassador watched the proceedings with close interest as T'Pol spoke rapidly in an undertone to the human who had nominated her for his team. After seeing accepting nods from both sides, he surmised the two had come to an understanding about a possible course of action.

When the whistle was blown the human kicked the ball just a few inches into the air before T'Pol struck it violently with her booted foot. Without so much as a reaction the stunned engineer in the goal watched the projectile crash into the back of the net.

The training continued. To Maxwell it was obvious that T'Pol was almost completely inexperienced at the game. Her superior Vulcan sense of balance and coordination in connection with her intellectual prowess, however, allowed her to calculate an optimal trajectory for the ball, so whenever she shot at the goal she usually scored or at least got a heroic save out of the ersatz goalie, Tucker.

The problem was that she was way too rarely in a position to shoot at the target. Her positioning was erratic at best, and more often than not her team members missed their target when trying to find her. Nonetheless when the final whistle went her team had won 4-1.

=/\=

"Alright," the coach explained, when the two teams assembled around him. "T'Pol, your technique is better than anything I ever saw from a beginner, but you obviously have no tactical experience."

"The dynamics of the game are indeed still unknown to me," she replied, relying on the fact that the coach would not use that against her.

"But that is something you can easily pick up in training," the stout man replied.

"She has no place in a men's team," Moose insisted – he had continued to attack her unfairly several times during the game.

"Oh she has," the man called Reed countered. "But you are _severely_ in doubt now, Gonzales. As soon as she's had time to work on her positioning, your arse will be warming up the bench."

Most of other team members erupted in laughter and nodded their heads in agreement.

"Okay," the coach interrupted the celebrations. "T'Pol, if you are still interested, welcome to the Mariners."

A round of applause from the other team members followed, with only a small group of five players around Gonzales declining to join the ritual.

"Thank you, coach," she intoned the phrase she thought to be most fitting according to human customs.

"Okay everybody. Tomorrow, same time." The players were dismissed, but the coach asked her, Lieutenant Tucker and Malcolm Reed to stay.

He appeared uncomfortable, but he faced her squarely and took a deep breath. "First of all, I want to apologize again, T'Pol. That stunt with the medicine ball was uncalled-for and I should have stood up to Monrovich and Gonzales."

"Would that apology not be better directed at the injured goalkeeper?" T'Pol asked back, fixing him with a steady stare. "He was injured because of this folly."

"Serves him right," she heard Malcolm Reed snort. "He was one of the blokes from Gonzales' posse who came up with it in the first place." His accent was quite unlike any of the other men's, and she realized that he was probably not native to the United States, and she remembered that she had heard very similar accents during her cultural training in London.

"I can't believe you allowed that in the first place. She could have broken her ankle!"

The angry accusation of Lieutenant Tucker alerted her senses in case the young human felt a need to assault the coach again. Clearly his ire had not faded completely.

"I know, Tucker, and trust me, I feel bad enough about it. But I only just started this job and I risk it enough by allowing T'Pol on the team. It doesn't make what I did acceptable, though," he admitted, looking shamefaced.

"Are you sure you want to play for someone like that Monrovich guy?" the young engineer asked her. "He doesn't sound like a big fan of yours."

"Would you not agree that proving this individual wrong would be the better course of action as opposed to simply giving in to his prejudiced views?" she asked back.

"I sure hope so," the coach answered. "My job depends on it, but from what I've seen, you've definitely got the potential."

=/\=

Soval extinguished his meditation candle and stood after a long process of working through the emotions and sensations that had assaulted his mind over the day. He walked towards the window and looked outside, just in time to see his young aide return to the compound.

She was still accompanied by the young human who had so ferociously defended her during the afternoon's trials. With no little amount of shock, he observed how the human slung his arms around her torso and T'Pol – instead of protesting the uninvited touch – returned the gesture somewhat stiffly. For a Vulcan, especially a betrothed female, this was a gross violation of protocol.

It was not difficult to see that the young human male had obvious intimate designs on his charge and she did not expend much effort on keeping him at a distance. With every passing day it became clearer why his deceased brother had shown momentary lapses of emotional control in regards to his daughter. On the other hand, those lapses had often been of an affectionate nature. It was undoubtedly taxing, though, to care for the well-being of his unorthodox niece.

"You need not concern yourself," he said when the door to the atrium was opened with extreme care, obviously meant to avoid any noises.

"You are still awake, _Tela'at_." She did not seem particularly surprised to see him – or display any of the guilt that her uncle half expected.

"Obviously," Soval replied dryly, feeling reminded of Maxwell's claim that Vulcans had 'a knack for stating the obvious'.

"I was accepted into the team," she reported. Clearly she had not seen her observers in the seating, or she would have been aware that they already knew.

"That too was obvious," the Vulcan replied, leading the way into the inner rooms. "In fact one human seems to be quite elated by the news. Do you not think it unseemly to allow a human such intimate contact with you? How will your betrothed take this news, if he hears of it?"

He turned around in surprise when his question was answered by an audible snort.

"Are we talking about the same betrothed who has not deemed me worthy of answering a single communication for twenty years, _Tela'at_? Are we talking about the same betrothed who chose to resolve his blood fever with another female, even though the _Seleya_ was only a two-day journey from Vulcan at the time?"

"You know very well that these incidents are common in our society. The blood fever is no condition to take lightly. I am sure Koss would have waited for you had his condition allowed him to do so."

"O really, _Tela'at_?" she replied and by now she was baring her teeth in openly-displayed anger. "You forget that I worked for the Ministry of Security for almost two decades. I am quite aware of Koss' intimate indiscretions with a female called T'Lara. In fact the clan law does not reflect favorably on your failure to alert me of it."

Soval fought hard not to gasp. He had indeed been aware of the fact that Koss had mated repeatedly with the accused female. This was a particularly sore point of the direction Vulcan society had taken under the rule of V'Las. Male infidelity was a widespread phenomenon on Vulcan, and he found himself dismayed that he had helped to perpetuate this disagreeable status quo.

"Is that sufficient reason to throw yourself at a human?" he asked, trying to avoid any open signs of uneasiness. "Surely we can find you a more agreeable betrothed among our own kind."

"With all due respect, _Tela'at_, I advise you to spare yourself the effort. As obviously my own parents were not capable of doing that, I trust no one but myself to make that decision. And I protest the insinuation that I 'throw myself' at a human. First of all, showing more interest in them is not at all disagreeable, but an integral part of our work. You as our Ambassador to their world should be the first to acknowledge that."

Soval took a breath to interrupt her, but T'Pol-_kan_ was apparently not prepared to stop her lecture and simply continued.

"And as far as my friendship with Charles is concerned – it is none of your business. With respect to your status as my _En'ahr'at_, be informed that – in contrast to my betrothed – I have not mated with him or any other male and do not contemplate doing so any time soon. Charles Tucker and Hoshi Sato have done more to help me find my place on this planet than all the Embassy staff put together, so forgive me, _Tela'at_, if I find their company more agreeable than being accompanied by someone like Tos."

Soval watched her stalk off straight towards her meditation chamber, obviously in emotional turmoil.

"A Klingon _targ _is more agreeable company than Tos," he muttered, and quickly lit the meditation candle to deal with the aftermath of this emotional encounter.


	2. Fateful Decision

**Fateful Decision**

T'Pol sat still, sunk in deep meditation. Her legs were aching from the frequent hard contact with the human who had disagreed with her participation in the training, but she endured the discomfort with the trained ease of a former operative and a Vulcan in general.

There had been a lot of emotions and sensations to process, and she found herself no longer surprised that the young human engineer, who had become a regular companion lately, was in the center of her thoughts. A momentary lapse of attention, thoughtlessly exiting the changing booth in the sports shop partly-clad, had changed the young male. She had not expected that a fellow female would be inconvenienced by her lack of clothing – after all human and Vulcan females were mostly identically built. But, so much was obvious, the sight of her unclothed torso had clearly had a profound effect on Lieutenant Tucker.

What she did not understand was why that knowledge did not inconvenience her. In fact, if she was required to describe the emotions associated with the incident, she would rather describe them as... agreeable. It appeared to her that the human's reaction was one of appreciation rather than displeasure or even disgust at her exposed form. It was only logical that human males would appreciate a female body, because so once did Vulcans (and most likely they still did, but would of course never admit as much).

In their bid to banish the emotions that had fueled Vulcan's violent past, her ancestors had summarily banished all emotion, suppressing them in a militant manner, among them those that were better mastered than suppressed. During border skirmishes with Andoria, her planet had suffered devastating losses, not least due to the fact that her race suppressed emotions like fear, instead of recognizing it as a sign of potential danger. Expressing that fact publicly had played a part in her dismissal from the Ministry of Security.

Her latest decision to join a human sports team would no doubt cause more censure from the Vulcan authorities and the only regret she had, was that _Tela'at_ Soval would have some of it directed at his person for his 'failure' to prevent it from happening. She took comfort in the fact that the venerable Ambassador and brother of her deceased father had withstood the overbearing control of the Vulcan authorities for half a century in his posting on Earth, so it was to be expected that he would continue to do so.

=/\=

Soval ended the recording, deep in thought. Although Earth had abandoned the concept of 'nations' a long time ago and was now ruled by a United Earth government, the humans still organized competitions between those formerly divided regions as was evident by the event called 'the World Cup' of which his friend Maxwell had provided a recording.

He could still not completely reconcile himself to the fact that T'Pol would partake in such a competition, much less among an otherwise entirely male team, but he had to admit that the game was much more than just mindless violence against opposing players and an inanimate object made from the skin of animals. It was in fact a highly tactical endeavor in which the intellectually superior opponent could easily beat the one relying on brute force. And that was a rather appealing thought for a Vulcan.

He had no doubt that T'Pol, who was an unusually intelligent individual, would master the tactical challenges and become a valuable member of the human team; and despite his misgivings about her decision, he found himself wishing that she would succeed in her self-imposed challenge. He decided to watch her further progress, although hoping that Maxwell would not require him to wear the garishly colored apparel again.

=/\=

Lieutenant Charles Tucker III stood at the window of his Starfleet apartment looking at the lights of San Francisco at night. Sleep would not come easy after such a day. It was unnerving enough that he could literally feel how he'd fallen head over heels for the cool charms of the Vulcan woman, but seeing her barge out of the changing booth topless was an image that was now burned into his memory like a cattle branding. He'd seen his fair share of ladies in various stages of undress, but none of them had been as spectacularly gorgeous as the one he had unexpectedly seen in the afternoon.

He had escorted her back to the Vulcan compound after the tryout and – on an impulse – even hugged her, but in general the situation had been awkward as he could hardly tell her what had been on his mind at the time. How does one go about telling a Vulcan that you are falling in love with her? It was a question for which he had no answer.

The coach had offered that he could join the team as well, and that would have enabled him to be with T'Pol even more frequently than now, but he would not have nearly sufficient free time to train enough to have a realistic chance at making the team on merit. Finding time to pick her up at the Vulcan compound for a short walk or dinner in a restaurant was one thing, but almost 8 hours every week, that was too much to ask of his schedule.

He sighed and sat down on the couch, closing his eyes while he replayed the day's events in his memory, but he quickly abandoned the idea when a very obvious bodily reaction accompanied his reminiscence of the visit to the sports shop.

=/\=

"With all due respect, Sir," Malcolm said, annoyed by Monrovich's tirade. "Have you even been watching the training? She scored more goals in one game than Gonzales managed in half a bloody season. Who cares if she's a woman or not? I for one am sick of being a midfield team. If we want to get somewhere we need a good forward, and she is one."

He held the team owner's stare. The slimeball could of course not know that he was trying to intimidate one of Earth's most experienced undercover operatives, and Malcolm was not inclined to tell him. In fact it was rather amusing that a fat moneybag with all the sporting credentials of a hippopotamus was trying to stare down someone who had fought Gorn, Cardassians and other more disagreeable species whose existence nobody on the planet, except for a few battle-hardened men and women like those in the Section, so much as suspected.

"She has no idea of tactics and falls over at the drop of a fuckin' hat," his opponent seethed. "The coach should never have taken her on the team."

"She fell a lot," Malcolm agreed. "Every time Gonzales or one of his cronies hacked her down. The coach has never sent off someone during a training game until today and for that tackle it was more than deserved. If I was you, I would use the back exit to get out of here, because there seemed to be a rather upset gentleman in the stands who did not take awfully kindly to your heckling and Gonzales' attempt to break her legs."

Fatso trundled off in a huff – amusingly towards the back exit – and Malcolm allowed himself a moment of smugness about his victory. The scumbag could have kicked him out of the team easily, but even Monrovitch knew that left to his own devices with just Gonzales and his posse, his team would drop down the order like a stone.

Several players gave him a pat on the back and the coach just grinned like the cat that ate the canary.

"Where is Gonzales anyway?" Malcolm asked. "I think I want to have a word with him."

"I kicked him out of the team," the coach admitted. "Morales, Checo and Rodrigo walked out after him, as you'd expect. Had you not given Monrovich a piece of your mind just now, I think I'd be sacked by now."

"Good riddance to the lot of them," Reed said grumpily. "That leaves T'Pol and Jenkins as our only true forwards though."

"Well, I think we can agree that having no striker or Gonzales wasting air upfront won't make much of a difference," the coach said, rolling his eyes, and the team broke into laughter. "We'll have to make up for it in the midfield. I think we'll use a 4-5-1 with you, Malcolm, and Rich as double-sixes, N'Kono and Masterson on the left and right flanks, and Jamieson as offensive center."

"It would be worth a try," Malcolm agreed. "Considering it's been only the first proper training I think T'Pol's positioning was much better than yesterday."

"She's a quick learner," the coach concurred. "Maybe all that talk about how smart Vulcans are is more than a myth. "

"Where is she anyway?" the Brit asked. "Someone should have a look at that ankle."

The coach chuckled.

"I think she's in good hands. The 'upset gentleman', as you called him, offered to bring her over to Doc Pardus. I think a good icing down is all it takes. She seems to be quite a tough cookie."

=/\=

T'Pol was not in an agreeable mood. It was not so much the fact that she had to sling her arm around the human's neck to steady herself – in fact she found that experience not disagreeable at all. It was being seen to be in need of help which spoiled the experience. She had never been able to endure such situations with any patience.

Despite her best efforts, her human companion saw right through her attempts to hide the pain. Before she could stop him, he had already hailed a taxi and helped her sit in it.

"Starfleet campus, house forty-three," she heard him order, and she looked at him inquiringly.

"We'll make a stop at my place," he explained. "I doubt you have any ice packs in the compound."

"And you happen to do so," she said with a touch of sarcasm dripping in her voice. Although she was not displeased by the thought of spending some more time with her human companion, she had heard claims among the compound's denizens that, for humans, taking a female home to one's residence after a 'date' amounted to a precursor to sexual relations, something she definitely was not planning to engage in.

"I'm an engineer, working on prototype technology," he said with a smile, oblivious to her misgivings. "I burn myself more than once a week, so I always have some ice packs in the freezer."

She resolved to watch out for any indications of indecent motives while visiting the dwelling, but so far Lieutenant Tucker had given her no reason to doubt the sincerity of his words, so she relaxed somewhat.

=/\=

T'Pol sat on the very comfortable couch of the human's home, her right leg with its swollen ankle propped up on a pillow. The residence of the young male was not as she had expected it to be. There was no sign of untidiness or even chaos as another rumor rife in the compound claimed. Apparently, on the contrary, unattached human males were indeed able to keep their home in order.

_Or they are not as unattached as one thought_, she mentally noted, and was surprised by how upset she was by the thought when she saw a picture frame on a shelf, displaying Lieutenant Tucker with a young female, each having their arm resting around the other's shoulder.

To her displeasure, her host had obviously noticed that momentary lapse in controlling her emotions.

"That's Lizzy, my baby sister," he explained, wrapping the flexible ice pack around her ankle.

"She does not look like an infant."

The human laughed softly, while fixing the cooling device with a towel.

"It's a human expression. It means she's younger than me – three years. She's an architect back home in Florida."

"You seem to have quite an affection for each other." She deliberately ignored the surge of quite illogical gratification that the attractive female in the photograph was a sibling.

"Well, don't you love your brother or sister?"

"I do not have siblings. Many Vulcans only produce a single offspring in their lifetime. Thankfully there are enough, who produce multiple offspring. Or species would face extinction were this not the case."

"Much like humans these days," her host said. "My parents had three, but it's become a bit rare nowadays. Most people choose career over kids. They don't know what they're missing."

T'Pol was taken aback by the wistfulness of his words. It was apparent that the young male did not only cherish the memory of his siblings, but he also seemed to have a strong wish for children. That would of course rule out any intentions in him to seek an intimate relationship with her as she, as a member of an alien species, would not be able to bear his offspring. To her shock, she found the thought thoroughly disagreeable.

Something in her mind snapped, and a decision was made. On an impulse she grabbed the human and despite not really knowing anything of the technique, she pressed her lips to his as she had seen portrayed on human paintings. Thankfully he seemed to be familiar with the ritual, and she willingly followed his lead. The torrent of emotions that washed over her in that moment of short but intense touch-telepathic contact was exhilarating and frightening at the same time, and she became lost in the sensation of his lips moving against hers.

When her senses cleared, she and her partner in the experience had already parted, and the human was looking at her wide-eyed in what could only be described as utter shock, breathing heavily.

"I - I apologize if I..." She found herself inexplicably unable to construct a coherent sentence.

"No, no you didn't... I mean... It was... I just can't believe you really did that."

T'Pol felt a surge of amusement at the human's equal confusion. His wide smile was indication enough to convince her that he had found the gesture anything but disagreeable.

"Perhaps you would... believe it if we... repeated the ritual?"

T'Pol prepared for another torrent of emotions as the human gently gathered her in his arms.

=/\=

"You are out of control, T'Pol-_kan,_" the Ambassador lectured. "Not only do you return from your training with an obvious injury. You also... you _kissed_ this human in front of the Vulcan compound!"

"Do I take it as an indication of your keeping me under close surveillance, _Tela'at_?" T'Pol replied, not best pleased by having been spied on during such an intimate moment. "As Charles and I hid among the vegetation for our parting ritual, I must conclude that you willfully violated my privacy."

"Yes I did," her uncle – but also superior – admitted, sitting down on his chair. "I have never told this to anyone, but I believe you should know. You are not the first Vulcan to develop an affection for a human. I too once desired a human female. You are in grave danger if you continue to pursue this cause of action."

She thought initially that he was referring to the danger of an emotional entanglement, but the gravity of his expression told her otherwise. "What is the danger you are speaking of?"

Soval looked down at his hands, linked in his lap, and sighed deeply. "The High Command found out about my clandestine meetings with a human woman. They threatened to take any measures to prevent this from continuing, up to and including, liquidation."

"They threatened to murder you?" T'Pol hissed in rage, jumping up from her seat, heedless of the searing pain in her ankle. She didn't bother to prevent her open display of emotion; the information was just too outrageous.

"It was not I they threatened to kill." He paused, obviously to let the thought of that sink in. "I was forced to undergo the _Fullara_ ritual at the monastery of P'Jem. Unfortunately it was not successful. They were unable to take the memory of her from me, even by force."

"They killed her?" his niece asked in shock, her voice barely above a whisper.

"No, she did so herself," the Ambassador answered and to her abject horror – tears seeped from beneath his closed eyelids. She had never seen an open display of emotion from him in all the sixty-three years of her life.

"I... disavowed her existence," the Elder admitted on a stifled sob. "I pretended that the _fullara _had been successful. She took her own life, distraught over my abandoning her."

T'Pol was shaking with rage at the grave injustice that had been done to her family. She had long had misgivings about some of the more controversial policies of the High Command, but such an act of filth was beyond comprehension.

"We will stop it, now!" she growled, her fist crashing down on the Ambassador's desk. She had abandoned all thought of keeping up a pretense of reigning in her emotions. "What course of action do you propose? That I deny my affection for Charles? That I abandon him in pro-active fear of the High Command? No! This will just cement the status quo, as the humans say. If they want to murder me or Charles for desiring each other – let them do it. Let them demonstrate what an 'enlightened species' we are!"

"I salute your bravery, T'Pol-_kan_." The Ambassador had meanwhile calmed himself again, and now looked at her levelly. "But are you sure you can make such a decision for your human?"

"He was prepared to battle another human twice his size to defend me," she proclaimed proudly. "I would not have gone as far as deciding to pursue the option of an intimate relationship with Charles if I was not convinced that he would fight in the _koon-ut-kalifee _for me without a second thought; and despite, or perhaps _because_ of, my childhood betrothed's infidelity you know very well that this is more than just a theoretical option."

Soval frowned doubtfully. "Speak with your human, T'Pol-_kan_, he deserves to know what the price is of desiring you. As far as your betrothal is concerned – leave this to me. It is apparent that you no longer consider Koss a suitable companion, and I should have intervened earlier after his improprieties."

"This no longer concerns only Charles and me, _Tela'at_. How many more Vulcans must suffer your fate until someone stops this practice of coercion and threat? I have seen, in the last two days, how prepared humans are to protect me if need be. The High Command will not be able to harm us without exposing themselves, of that I am convinced."

She could see that hope was warring in the Ambassador's mind with conviction about the veracity of her words. Ignoring the pain in her ankle, she hobbled out of his office toward the meditation chamber. Quiet contemplation of the day's events was urgently needed.

=/\=

She savored the pleasure of Charles's affectionate thoughts resonating in her mind. She was walking through a park, resting her hand in the crook of his elbow. It was an acceptable sign of affection among humans and not expressive enough to cause too much scandal should they be seen by any Vulcans.

As she had expected, Charles' affection for her had not been impacted by the news she had relayed to him. If anything, his defensive instincts had even sharpened, and he too had vowed to stand up to the High Command should the necessity arise.

Thankfully the ice packs he had given her had served their purpose admirably, and except for a dull pain in her ankle, no lasting damage remained from the previous day's training. Nonetheless the coach had insisted she should abstain from training, which was why they were now walking towards the stadium to watch the practice from the stands instead of her taking part in it.

=/\=

"How's your ankle?" she heard Malcolm Reed, the team's captain, ask. Instead of starting their training, the whole team (now that the disagreeable members had been removed) had congregated around them to greet her.

"My ankle is healing, Mr. Reed."

"Mr. Reed," the human snorted sarcastically. "It's Malcolm. We don't usually call each other Mister or Missus on the team, unless of course Vulcan protocol demands it."

"No it does not, Malcolm," she said, easily switching the address now that he had allowed her to do so. "As you are all assembled here, I believe this is an opportune moment to make an announcement. Charles and I have decided to pursue the option of a permanent relationship."

'Whoops and cheers', as the humans called the celebratory noise, erupted around them.

"However, this is not without consequences. The Vulcan High Command is not likely to condone my decision and they are not above using physical violence to prevent a union between a Vulcan and a Human. As you could find yourself in the midst of possible retaliatory action by the High Command, I will not hold it against you if, for your own safety, you decided to remove me from the team."

"Wait a minute, does that sound like what I think it does?" Anger ignited in the gray eyes.

"I am sure your conclusion is not unwarranted, Malcolm."

The young human could not, of course, know that as a former operative of the Ministry of Security, she was well aware of his past in Section 31. She had done some research since their first meeting, and had become aware that there was considerably more to him than met the eye.

"Meet me after the training, both of you," he replied with a scowl on his face. "And as for your leaving the team – unless _you _want to, forget it."

Affirmative noises were made by the other team members.

"If your High Command wants to get to you, they first have to go through me!" the huge defender called Svenson proclaimed, to many cheers from his colleagues.

"I thank you all," T'Pol said, although she was not sure that the humans had really grasped the gravity of the situation.

=/\=

Malcolm looked at his two companions who sat with him in one of the finer eateries in Sausalito. It was hard to miss that the two of them had it bad for each other. Who would have thought that a bloody Yank would manage to charm one of Vulcan's toughest operatives in a matter of three weeks?

"First of all, let's put the cards on the table," he opened in a low voice. "T'Pol, I know where you worked before your posting to the Embassy, and I'm pretty sure you have an idea where I've been collecting my paycheck for the last five years."

He could see that T'Pol's companion was confused.

Evidently recognizing it too, and aware that now her only option was honesty, she amplified the statement. "Malcolm and I have both been operatives for our respective government's secret intelligence services."

The clinical explanation of the Vulcan neatly removed the confusion and Malcolm was silently impressed by how calmly the American took the news that his new girlfriend was a former spook. The blue eyes widened a little, and moved to him in a brief, steady stare that signaled some reassessment was going on, but he said nothing.

"Well, I'm not quite as 'former' as you," the Englishman continued. "In fact I'm on my last assignment. I only joined the team a week before you. When it transpired that you were interested in joining, the Section got a bit curious. A former Vulcan operative suddenly wanting to play football and so on."

"I take that to mean that the early 'dates' between Charles and me were not quite as private as I had assumed."

"Not quite, no," Malcolm admitted. "Look, we're on the same side here, and to alleviate your fears: your dates have been completely private since the day you tried out for the team."

He saw her raise an inquisitive eyebrow. Her gaze was penetrating, searching him for the lies that as a Section operative he could produce so naturally when required.

"If you'd been infiltrating the team for intelligence purposes, you would have researched the game thoroughly. The prank with the medicine ball would not have worked. That's when I knew you were not ordered in."

"Helluva way to find out," her date complained. "So basically, she wasn't been sent to infiltrate the team, but you were."

"Essentially, yes," Malcolm confirmed. "Except that I should already have left it again by now, but I sort of like it, so I told my superiors to stuff it, and I'm staying." He left much unsaid, but knew that T'Pol was aware of that.

"So what does that have to do with the High Command?" the American demanded.

"Once we found out that T'Pol joined on her own decision, we gathered that the Vulcans would not be best pleased by the fact of an unmarried Vulcan female joining a male team, so the training ground is well protected and I'm actually not the only Section member on the team. The Section has been keeping an eye on the High Command for quite a while, and I think all three of us are aware that T'Pol was making quite an understatement when she told the team how far the HC would go to 'separate' you." He was revealing more than he probably should about his ex-employers' business, but shrugged that thought off indifferently.

"So we are now under protection of the secret service?" the engineer asked.

"Sort of. On the training grounds – definitely. When you leave, you aren't. There are operatives stationed on key points on the way to your home and the Vulcan compound, but we can't provide full security without violating your private lives, and I gather you wouldn't want that."

"Such measures will not be necessary," the Vulcan interrupted. "As you know I am qualified in counter intelligence measures myself. As long as the way to our respective homes is adequately secured, no further measures are necessary."

"I've sent the new info you've given us to my superiors," Malcolm said handing over a tiny device to the Vulcan. "We'll stay out of your hair, but if push comes to shove, use this and I'll be coming in with the cavalry. It's an emergency beacon. Just activate it and try to keep it as close to yourself as possible. It would best just to swallow it."

"Did you not say finding out what my motives were to join the team was your last assignment?" she asked, but accepted the device.

"I'm telling you no secrets when I say that employers, like the ones we worked or still work for, are rather reluctant to let people go. So they simply extended it," he added, letting a good portion of sarcasm seep into his voice.

He saw the accepting nod of the Vulcan, and the conversation turned to less confidential subjects as the waiter brought the food.

=/\=

"Don't worry about me," Trip said, cupping her cheek.

Since they were in front of the Vulcan compound, they had discreetly hidden among the trees and bushes to avoid scandalizing any Vulcans by kissing in public.

"I am concerned. You do not have the necessary training to detect if you're being followed."

He kissed her again.

"This Malcolm guy seems to know what he's doing. Don't you think he knows himself that I might need more keeping an eye on than you?"

Their moment of intimacy was interrupted by the whine of a phase pistol.

T'Pol threw herself over him, bringing them both crashing to the ground as the beam of the weapon burned through the foliage around them.


	3. Moving In

T'Pol was still in the process of forcing her increased heart rate back to normal levels, and still covering Charles' body with her own, when she heard the dull thud of someone impacting with the pavement in front of the compound entrance. As her keen hearing could pick up the unmistakable sound of breaking bones, it seemed to be the aftermath of a fall from great height.

Trained to assess a dangerous situation with all senses sharpened, she had also not missed the fact that there had been a second weapon's discharge, which had however not impacted the foliage around them and was therefore directed elsewhere. The logical conclusion was that their assailant was now lying dead on the pavement and it was therefore reasonably safe to stand up again.

She helped a visibly shocked Charles back on his feet. Even though their acquaintance spanned only several weeks, she knew it was a gesture that he would normally consider his own duty, but the unexpected attack had apparently shaken him enough to forget about this unexpected role reversal. Seeing that he was in need of calming, she wordlessly hugged him close, a gesture that was eagerly returned.

"You may come out now, children," someone said and T'Pol immediately identified it as the voice of Soval. "The danger has been averted."

When they walked out of the vegetation, their clothes dirty from the fall, they were met by the Ambassador, who was carrying a weapon. She immediately saw that the charge indicator was still flashing, a sign that the weapon had been discharged very recently. Apparently it had been her uncle, who had shot their assailant, whose remains were carried away by two security officers. A large puddle of green blood marked the spot where the attacker had impacted the ground.

"I believe in this case you will approve of my invasion of your privacy," the Ambassador said. "We should go inside. We have much to discuss."

=/\=

Finally his heart returned to beating in a more humane fashion as opposed to a staccato of two hundred beats per minute and he could almost feel the surge of adrenaline dissipating.

"The High Command didn't waste any time, did they?"

"It is unlikely that the High Command is even aware of your relationship," the old Vulcan disagreed. "The man, who attacked you was working for the Ministry of Security. Are you aware of T'Pol's former occupation?"

"She worked for the same company."

"Indeed. It is more likely that the Ministry is concerned that T'Pol's frequent contact with humans will lead to an undesirable transfer of information."

"Well that means the High Command will now definitely 'be aware' of things," Trip added, wondering why T'Pol was not contributing anything to the discussion.

"I will work with Admiral Forrest on a protest note to the High Command. The official reason for your visits to the Vulcan compound will be explained as research of engineering matters. Earth Starfleet will demand that your safety shall be guaranteed by the Vulcan authorities. This will no longer allow the High Command to attack you without recriminations and not even the V'Las government will risk a war to punish a single couple of individuals."

"But they can still go after T'Pol and Starfleet will not want to get involved if you off one of your own."

"Indeed," the Ambassador agreed and stood up and started slowly pacing in front of his desk. Trip thought it was an odd thing to do for a Vulcan.

"However, any plans of retribution against T'Pol will be infinitely harder to put into practice if it would also mean risking harm to you."

"Sort of like a human shield?"

"Indeed," the Vulcan confirmed. "Are you prepared to provide shelter for T'Pol in your residence?"

"You mean, moving in together?"

"Yes."

"It's rushing things a bit, considering we've only yesterday decided to have a relationship, but of course, I'm game. Isn't that a question you would need to ask T'Pol, though?"

"You would expect me to decline?" T'Pol asked and he was baffled that she managed to convey a clear undercurrent of amusement in her voice in such a grave situation.

"I have no idea how such things are handled on Vulcan," he said with an apologetic shrug and a lopsided grin.

"I must warn you however," the old Vulcan continued. "It is obvious, even to an old man like me, that both of you desire each other a great deal. With living together in close quarters inevitably come certain desires. I must warn you to not engage in physical intimacy. You would put T'Pol in grave danger."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Trip said, slightly irritated by the fact that the old Vulcan apparently expected him to jump T'Pol's bones at the first opportunity.

"I am sure you are familiar with the biological implications of an intimate relationship."

"Sure," Trip said. "Do you expect me to jump her bones first chance I get? And what do you mean – grave danger?"

"If T'Pol, as a betrothed, unmarried female were to mate with another male, she would be subject to capital punishment, namely the death penalty."

"What!?" Trip exclaimed in disbelief. "T'Pol's been sort of reluctant with details, but I know she was supposed to marry some Vulcan guy, but the bastard cheated on her with another girl. How come he's still alive?"

Trip could see he had hit on something the Vulcan was not comfortable to speak about.

"Lieutenant Tucker, as your relationship with T'Pol progresses, you will learn of several aspects of our culture that you will most likely perceive as archaic. This punishment does only apply to females. Male infidelity is merely enough to have a betrothal annulled. This particular law has no longer been practiced for centuries, but in the current case the V'Las government would not hesitate to revive an ancient, obsolete law to liquidate T'Pol."

"Damn, that's so fourteen-forty," Trip groaned. "Don't worry, sir, I will be on my best behavior."

"And I shall endeavor to have this betrothal annulled without undue delay. T'Pol-_kan, _It would be time to gather your belongings. The sooner you leave the compound the safer you are."

Trip saw T'Pol leave and felt slightly uncomfortable being left behind with the highest ranked Vulcan on the planet.

"Sir, you have my word I'm not going to do something stupid," he said in a lame attempt to avoid any awkward silence.

"I have no doubt about your integrity, Lieutenant," the grey-haired Vulcan said. "The warning was directed at T'Pol. Our customs forbid speaking about matters of intimacy with the opposite gender in attendance, but now that T'Pol has left I need to inform you about some matters."

"I can't believe I'm getting 'the talk' from the Vulcan Ambassador," Trip muttered to himself in sarcastic amusement.

"The custom of living together is part of Vulcan marriage traditions. As we arrange marriages between young people who do not know each other well, it is custom that newly wedded couples reside together for a year. During that time they will get acquainted and in most cases they will develop a deep connection to each other."

"And part of that 'developing a connection' is that they also want to check out the physical side of things," Trip filled in.

"Crudely worded, but essentially correct," the Vulcan agreed. "Apparently for you the affection for each other has already developed, which is why T'Pol's interest in introducing the physical aspect of your union will soon awaken. It is a biological implication that T'Pol shall explain to you in due time."

"That's a tall order, but I think I'm up to the challenge," Trip vowed.

"Your species, however, has an invaluable advantage," the Vulcan said and Trip could have sworn his corners of the mouth twitched upwards for the tiniest fraction of a second. "The ancient law only forbids the penetrative act of copulation as almost all Vulcans know nothing else and I believe humanity has developed alternative…, less invasive, methods that would therefore not fall under the scrutiny of this ancient law."

Trip could feel a massive blush creep up on his cheeks, but before the old Vulcan could delve even deeper into red-face territory, T'Pol returned with a duffel bag hanging over her shoulder.

"That all?" he asked, pointing at the bag.

"I only took the bare necessities. I wish to keep up the pretense of still living in the compound. Everything I need in addition can be procured tomorrow."

"Alright, let's go. And thanks a lot for you help Ambassador," he added with a nod at the grey-haired Vulcan. "Both out there and just now."

A silent nod in return was the only answer he got.

=/\=

Trip sat on the couch, a little awkwardly. As a gentleman he had of course offered the comfier bed to T'Pol and had prepared the couch for himself. His new housemate was currently preparing herself for the night, while he adjusted the scanner Soval had given him. They were not exactly cleared to have it, but the Ambassador had insisted they take it with them.

The device would alert them to any Vulcan biosigns in a radius of one kilometer, giving them enough time to retire to the basement, should the High Command decide to attack the dwelling despite the possible consequences.

In a way it was silly to sleep on the couch, but his single bed would be way too crowded with two people unless they would sleep in a closely entangled pile. And apart from causing very obvious – and as of two hours ago potentially deadly – bodily reactions, it would also be rushing things even more than they were rushing them already. His old-fashioned upbringing didn't really cater for the scenario of moving in together just one day after officially starting the relationship.

His breathing caught when T'Pol came out of the bathroom. She was wearing a blue set of night clothes – a short, fairly tight fitting pair of pants that left little to the imagination and a top that left the midriff bare and got the so far unused imagination going into overdrive. Gracefully she sat on the couch next to him and looked at him with those hazel-colored beautiful eyes.

"We should procure a double-sized bed tomorrow. Your sleeping arrangement is not satisfactory. This piece of furniture does not provide you with the necessary comfort to rest sufficiently."

"You sure about that? I mean, sleeping in the same bed?" he asked.

"Of course."

"Okay, we'll hit the shops tomorrow," he said with a grin and stole a good-night kiss, to hide his insecurity. The Vulcan really went quite a pace in terms of furthering their relationship and he found it hard to understand why he felt so confused by it. Living in the same house with the most gorgeous and sexy creature in the universe was hardly a catastrophic event. But then there were of course the implications of what the Ambassador had said.

It would take a while to find sleep tonight.

=/\=

The coach stared at the goal in equal bafflement as the hapless goalkeeper. He was laughing in disbelief. He had become used to some players' predilection for attempting trick shots during free kick practice, but this was just preposterous! T'Pol had just whacked in a direct shot into the upper right corner from forty-two yards out that made the goalkeeper look like Lot's wife.

"Okay, time-out!" he yelled and all players gathered in a circle around him. He was still shaking his head in disbelief.

"T'Pol, an honest answer please, was that intended or a lucky shot?"

"Vulcans do not believe in 'luck', coach. The ballistic trajectory was necessary to make it harder for the goalkeeper to deflect the shot and to make up for the disadvantage that he could see the incoming ball for a long time."

The coach heard snickering among the players.

"So you calculated that… in your head?" he asked in disbelief.

"Basic physical calculations are taught on Vulcan since early childhood. There are areas on Vulcan with natural dampening fields, which render most technology inoperable, but are teeming with predatory wild life. If your only chance to chase off a predator is, kicking or throwing stones at it, an impeccable aim is a matter of survival. If I may offer you advice; do not challenge a Vulcan over the age of twelve to a game of billiards."

The players were by now whooping and cheering in a mix of admiration and amusement about her dry delivery.

"All right then, let's test that theory," the coach said and tucked a ball under his arm. "To the corner."

He put the ball on the corner spot and made an inviting hand gesture towards the goal. The players went quiet as T'Pol looked down, then at the goal, and down at the ball again. Without further ado she curled the ball towards the goal with a right-footed Rabona shot. The ball impacted the inner side of the far post and bounced lazily into the back of the net.

Loud applause and some disbelieving laughter among the players ensued.

"Don't tell me they teach the Rabona on Vulcan, too," the coach asked in disbelief.

"No," she said. "It is a technique I once saw when I witnessed a game in London. It is a good way to compensate for the lack of accuracy achievable with my left foot."

"I don't think we'll need to spend much time on your technical training," the coach said, shaking his head with an honest smile.

=/\=

"I think those ones look good," Trip said as they were walking through the offerings on display of "Morpheus' Empire", a fairly expensive shop for beds, wardrobes and everything else that belonged in a bed room. Thankfully he was not one to spend much money, so even the steepest wares on trade were well in the limits of his savings and considering that he was selecting for the most amazing woman on the entire planet, sleeping arrangements were not something he was going to be miserly about.

"Your body temperature is higher than mine, isn't it?" he asked, inspecting a pillow.

"Indeed, by six degrees centigrade."

"Well, that's gonna come in handy in winter," he said with a mischievous grin, "Do you get hot or cold in summer?"

"I do not understand."

"Well, sometimes when it's warm outside, I feel too hot and sleep badly."

"No, I rather tend to feel cold. Vulcan body functions reduce more significantly than humans ones in sleep. We lose body warmth quickly once we fall asleep."

"Okay, then it'll be feather sheets and pillows for you. I'll take a buckwheat pillow for the summer."

After she had nodded her approval, he deposited all the items on the large trolley he was pushing.

=/\=

Trip slipped each of the delivery guys a couple of credits extra, thanked them, and closed the door, happy that they now had a double bed in the bedroom without him being left with the task of assembling it.

T'Pol had spent most of the time locked away in the bathroom. That was not so much for keeping her presence a secret, but because she felt uncomfortable with strangers inside their home. While the Lady was away preparing for the night, he prepared the sheets. He placed the mattress pad below the blanket on T'Pol's side and turned it on to warm-up her side.

He uncorked a bottle of champagne. It had been a long-time, if somewhat peculiar, tradition in the Tucker clan to 'celebrate' the first night in their own double bed for a couple and even if T'Pol would most likely not make much sense of it, he would not break it. One unofficial part of that tradition, that the first night was not usually spent sleeping much, would definitely be broken though. Even though the Ambassador had more or less said that what amounted to heavy petting would not fall under the 'mating' clause of that archaic Vulcan law, after living together for merely two days, this was not the time to introduce a clueless Vulcan to that particular side of human interaction.

The familiar short gasp gripped him upon her entrance into the room. The skimpy night dress was a sight to behold. Surprisingly, she didn't raise so much as an eyebrow when she took the glass from him and sitting on the side of their new bed they just looked each other into the eyes for several moments while sipping the fizzy drink.

"You impressed the hell out them today, and me for that matter."

"The technique is not the problem," she admitted. Trip saw that she was shivering slightly, which was no surprise in an outfit that was barely bigger than its own washing label. With their lousy insulation, the Starfleet provided condo's cooled out quickly once it got dark outside. He grabbed one of the new plaids, wrapped it around her shoulders and abused the opportunity to steal a quick kiss.

"Thank you," she said and hugged it tighter around her torso. "As I said, the technique is not problematic. Dexterity, coordination and a good sense of balance are natural gifts to a Vulcan. However the tactical training is most difficult. It appears chaotic and mostly random to me."

"To be honest, you will probably struggle with that for some time, because you seek structure, but the tactics are more about intuition. If you would choreograph strict tactics, the opposing teams would easily snuff you out after a few games."

"Vulcans do not use intuition."

"You do," Trip grinned. "Or how long had you planned to kiss the daylights out of me, two days ago? Wasn't it a spontaneous decision because you thought it was the best course of action at the time?"

"But I could have offended you. A positive outcome was not guaranteed," she argued and he could see that she was slightly confused.

"That's part of using intuition," he explained. "You estimate what might happen, but it's just that – a guess. The more experience you gather, the more likely you are to make the right decision. You can't always wait for 'all the facts'."

"You wish me to observe the other players and as I gather data about their style of playing, I will be more likely to know what their next course of action will be," she stabbed in the dark and – he thought with satisfaction – had hit the nail right on the head.

"Let's test it out," he suggested. "What do you know about your captain, Malcolm Reed?"

=/\=

T'Pol lay awake, thinking about the day's events.

It was the first time in her life that she found herself in bed with a second person occupying it, but at sixty-three years of age, she should have shared a bed with her childhood betrothed as a married couple for at least a decade by now, closer to two decades if her mother would have had her wishes fulfilled, but the frequent improprieties of Koss made that thought less than desirable. She was not wishing to become the wife of someone, who could not control his carnal desires enough to respect their betrothal.

It was just one of the reasons why she had started to question several aspects of Vulcan society and traditions. Why were children betrothed to strangers, when it was obvious that they might grow up to desire someone else? For all his infidelity, Koss had always sated his base desires with the same female, so it was logical to assume that he preferred that female, not the one he was betrothed to.

Of course she had never expected to grow up to desire a human, the very same one, who was now resting less than half an arm's length away, breathing in and out calmly in a deep, peaceful slumber. There was no way any Vulcan male would spend such a substantial time on thinking about making her life more agreeable.

No Vulcan male would have thought about something as banal as procuring a device that would heat up her bed sheets. A Vulcan would just have expected her to endure those first few minutes of crawling under a cold blanket until she had warmed it up using her body heat. Not so her Charles; he had even thought about something inconsequential as that and neither logic nor practical concerns had guided his decision which bed, sheets, pillows and blankets to buy. The only deciding factor had been that she would be as comfortable as possible.

Even though it was an emotional indulgence, she savored the impression of being desired this much by him. Unfortunately, this also brought problems. Being shown so much reverence and affection would inevitably lead to the desire of furthering their relationship in intimate measures and her _en'ahr'at_ Soval had made it clear that such move would put her, and probably Charles as well, in grave danger.

Even if they had not married yet, the act of living together would awaken the same biological instincts as in every Vulcan female. The process of developing a deep connection to each other inevitably would arouse the desire to mate. This first year of living together after marriage was, for many Vulcan females, the only time in their life during which they mated while their spouse was not being afflicted by the blood-fever.

With the fear of this came several inconveniences that not even Charles could do much about. In fact, he was the cause of them. It was obvious that he considered her physique most attractive and, as she had learned from the young human linguist Hoshi Sato after the sports shop incident, human males were programmed by evolution to react in a certain manner to the sight of an attractive female body, especially if said body was not concealed.

As a result, also for the first time in her life, she wore clothing in bed. It was not something that Vulcans normally did. In fact, especially for those living close to the many deserts of her planet, the night was the only time of the day they were not exposed to oppressive heat. Diminishing the comfort of lower temperatures by wearing redundant clothing was patently illogical. At least here on Earth the lower ambient temperature lent some logic to this practice, although the night clothing she had procured was certainly not made with providing warmth in mind considering its most parsimonious use of fabric. In the end, her desire of providing her Charles with at least some vague visual pleasure had won out over her fears.

Her thoughts wandered away from this disagreeably problematic situation to the long talk they had about her beginning career in human sports. The explanations of Charles had helped a lot in understanding the actions of Malcolm Reed and she was sure it would help in better coordination between her and the team's captain.

She felt becoming slightly tired and rolled onto her side, letting sleep overcome her consciousness.

=/\=

"A word, T'Pol?" the coach asked, when T'Pol walked towards the catacombes of the stadium after another training session.

"Coach?"

"Have you been doing extra training with Reed? The two of you worked much better together."

"Charles helped me understand Malcolm's actions on the field better. Vulcans largely lack the ability to apply intuition, which is why I need to analyze the game from a Vulcan perspective to fit in."

"Is that why he's recording the practice?" the coach asked, pointing at her chosen sitting in the stands as one of the few observers of their practice.

"Yes," she confirmed his assumption. "We plan to analyze practices at home to improve my interaction with the other team members."

"Would you mind including me in that at least one time?" the coach asked, impressed by the effort the Vulcan was willing to spend on her participation in the team. "It obviously worked with Reed, but I would like to make sure that your partner's tactical ideas are not too different from mine."

"One moment, please."

The coach looked in astonishment when she just looked up at the young man in the stand and he walked down the stairs to them as if she had just hollered to make him come over. In short precise sentences she explained their short talk to him and in no time it was agreed that they would meet in the coach's office after T'Pol had changed.

=/\=

Coach Mancuso shook his head slightly. Even after being married happily for over twenty-five years, he had never been so in harmony with his wife like the two people in his office. T'Pol and her human boyfriend had discussed the training game and he had the distinct impression that about half-way into it they were no longer aware that he was still in the room. At least that was when the occasional kissing started and even if he was hardly an expert on Vulcans, he knew they were not the species to do that much in public.

When the recording had come to an end, he discretely cleared his throat and if the sheepish looks of both his visitors were anything to go by they had indeed forgotten about his presence.

"I have to say, Mister Tucker," the coach began, but was cut off by a stopping hand gesture of the blond-haired man.

"Trip," the younger man demanded.

"Okay, Trip," the coach corrected himself with a smile. "You have a keen eye for tactics. Have you done any coaching before?"

"My baby sister Lizzie loved to play ball when she was young," the man answered. "Her team was coached by some old guy, who died suddenly. Her high school wanted to dissolve the team for lack of coaches, so I stepped in. I basically knew nothing about the game, but I couldn't let her loose her team, could I? So I spent night after night teaching myself. We actually won the championship the next season."

Mancuso smiled. There was no doubt that the blond-haired guy was recalling some very fond memories and by what he had seen, his 'teaching himself' had been most successful.

"Listen Trip, you are a natural, you even gave me a clue or two. Would you think about joining the training staff as a tactical trainer and a scout? You would be worth your weight in gold scouting the opposing teams."

"Same answer I gave you when you asked me about joining as a goalie," the younger man answered. "I can't even make it to all trainings in time to watch T'Pol. First and foremost I'm still a Starfleet Engineer and one with a rather tight schedule at that."

"We would work around your schedule," the coach offered. "You understand T'Pol better than anyone of us and you are naturally gifted in tactics. Any time you could give us would be essential, especially now."

"What do you mean?" the engineer asked.

"Monrovich has put up the team for sale. He and his Latino cronies bought into LA Galaxy. We still have reserves for about half a season, but if we can't convince a buyer or investor until then, the team will be history."

"Just because T'Pol joined?" his guest seethed.

"T'Pol was just the straw that broke the camel's back," Mancuso replied. "I've been at odds with him for quite a time, because I didn't play Gonzales regularly.

"Figures," the younger man agreed. "Okay, I'll try to find the time, but you'll have to move tactical training to the end of training for me to make it in time."

=/\=

Ambassador Soval put the PADD to the side. The talk with the young human had been an enlightening one. Apparently the young male had not fully understood that his relationship with T'Pol was not following human traditions of courting. The moment T'Pol had decided to live with him, it had been a decision for a lifetime. With satisfaction the old Vulcan had noticed that the human had been surprised, perhaps even overwhelmed by the importance of T'Pol's decision, but he had not been threatened by it, calming the Vulcan's fears that the human would consider it a temporary arrangement. The young engineer appeared to be willing and wishing to spend the rest of his life with T'Pol – a most satisfying development, despite his own reservations against his niece's choice of mate.

The second topic had of course been T'Pol's progress in her endeavor to participate in the human sports team. Not having been able two witness another training session yet, Soval found it most agreeable to hear that T'Pol was not only making rapid progress, but was also accepted and respected by her human team mates.

More worrying were the news that the disagreeable owner of the team had put it up for sale. There was no doubt that closure of the team so shortly after T'Pol had joined would lead to unjust allegations. The humans would irrationally blame the demise of a popular group on T'Pol's participation.

He could not allow that to happen. Being from one of the wealthiest clans on Vulcan, outright purchase or at least financial investment to sustain the team was no problem, but the V'Las government would no doubt declare such an investment a frivolous act and punish him accordingly. It was obvious that he would have to establish a system of subterfuge to conceal his involvement. As an ardent supporter of the team Maxwell would surely help to achieve this goal.

The Ambassador tabled these thoughts for the moment and started the copy of the recording that the young human had left him.


	4. Takeover

_A/N: Since stories with mature content are too invisible on this site, the extended version will be published on "Archive on your Own" the next few days. This is the 'softened' version suitable for older teens, who know about the birds and bees. _

_Two weeks later…_

Trip walked along the corridor of Starfleet Headquarters, wondering why Admiral Forrest wanted to see a lowly Lieutenant. The last time he had spoken to Forrest was in the 602 club, when the then-Commodore had announced that the Vulcans had pulled the plug on the Warp Three project.

But what really occupied his thoughts were domestic issues. The prediction by Ambassador Soval that T'Pol would become more brazen in intimate matters was coming true with worrying speed. Her night clothes had been skimpy enough to begin with and after a few days she had ditched the top for good, sleeping topless from then on. Of course that did not do much to strengthen his resolve to practice celibacy until her betrothal had been annulled.

Both his upbringing and the abhorrent thought of adultery had been convenient deterrents to any thoughts of going further than a kiss, but that no longer counted; Soval had recently explained that a betrothal was not as binding as a human engagement and could easily be challenged by either mate – with the woman having fewer options, though.

Leading life of a monk in the proximity of daily temptation was not helped by the fact that Vulcans were designed for higher gravity than humans, which meant that despite their size, her breasts were simply perfect and not sagging the least bit. Even thinking about the most perfect pair he'd seen in his life was causing an irritatingly obvious reaction and Trip quickly found it necessary to disappear temporarily into a nearby toilet. The blue flight suits did nothing to hide male arousal.

When the treacherous organ had calmed down again, he continued on his way, forcing himself to think of other things than the image of a topless Vulcan. Soon he had reached the office of Admiral Forrest.

=/\=

He had to give it to the young Lieutenant, Maxwell thought, his association with a Vulcan seemed to have calmed the temper of the man. He looked much more collected than the brash youngster who had once challenged the Vulcan observers over the viability of Henry Archer's engine.

He hadn't even flinched when he noticed Soval's presence in the office, but Maxwell chalked that up to the fact that the young officer had undoubtedly spoken to the Ambassador several times, since he'd decided to take a Vulcan as his girlfriend. Nevertheless, Maxwell had thought that at least the Mariner scarves that he and the gray-haired Vulcan were wearing should have gotten a rise out of him, but it was obvious that Tucker was a man who had had enough surprises dumped on him lately to not flinch at another.

Smiling slightly, he took a piece of paper from his desk and handed it to the engineer.

"I didn't even know I _had_ an aunt Betsy, let alone that she died." Tucker was now at least looking a little confused, understandably so after having read what was a will, under the terms of which he inherited a _very substantial_ amount of money from a far-flung relative of whose existence he'd never heard.

"That's because she wasn't your aunt," Maxwell explained, and indicated Ambassador Soval. "Meet the new owner of the Sausalito Mariners, Mr. Tucker."

_So he still can be surprised after all, _the Admiral thought with amusement as the younger officer stared open-mouthed at the ambassador.

"So I guess I'm supposed to invest this unexpected 'inheritance' in buyin' shares in the team?"

"Correct, Lieutenant," Maxwell agreed. "For obvious reasons it can't be made public that Ambassador Soval bought the team. The High Command would immediately relieve him of his post and god knows who would succeed him. So with a little help from Starfleet Intelligence, we arranged for you to be remembered fondly by an old aunt, while coach Mancuso has 'won' a prize in a little-known lottery. Officially Mancuso, you and myself will buy the Mariners with one third of the shares each."

"Can someone explain to me why the Vulcan Ambassador to Earth is suddenly interested in buyin' a sports team?" the lieutenant asked the old Vulcan, his expression puzzled. "I had the impression that you weren't very fond of T'Pol joinin' in in the first place."

"It is a somewhat opportunistic move," Soval admitted. "The dismantling of the team shortly after T'Pol's arrival would inevitably cause accusations of a disagreeable nature. In addition, it stands to reason that her arrival and the perceived 'exotic nature' of having a female Vulcan practice the sport will cause a heightened interest in the team."

"So you're hopin' to get some return on the investment out of it," the engineer deduced swiftly.

Maxwell smiled. Not too many humans were confident enough to 'accuse' the Vulcan Ambassador of something as mundane as wanting to make money.

"Contrary to popular belief Vulcans _do_ have economic dealings, Lieutenant, so I indeed expect financial gain from the investment, but it is a mere positive side-effect. The more important aspect is T'Pol's safety. The High Command, predictably, declared her decision frivolous and unbecoming a Vulcan, but if she gains enough public exposure, the High Command cannot sanction her without causing diplomatic problems."

"I don't think she'll like too much 'exposure'," the young lieutenant pointed out.

"T'Pol knew that she would arouse public interest when she joined the team," Soval explained. "To a certain degree she is willing to endure it, and since it may help her security, I would say it may even be logical."

Maxwell hid his grin behind his hand. How many people out there did know that Soval actually had a sense of humor? Granted, he kept it well hidden; and with the High Command breathing down his neck, the poor old guy had to keep up the pretense of being a grumpy old git who regarded humans barely more evolved than turd-throwing apes. Thankfully the select few who were allowed to see past this facade soon realized that the truth was far from that carefully-crafted fake image.

"Okay, Mancuso and I buyin' shares in the team won't be questioned by anyone as we're on the coaching staff," the younger man noted. "But what about you, Admiral? What's your excuse?"

Forrest snorted in amusement. "Trust me, Lieutenant, everyone even remotely close to the Mariners knows me. I've been their most rabid fanboy over the years. That position your 'better half' is playing once belonged to me. Although we were still toiling about in the fourth division back then."

"Frankly, I would have pegged you for the American variant, Sir."

"That's why I was only good for the minor leagues," the admiral admitted. "I was too slow. But it was what I wanted to do. And my granddad was from Britain. He would never have forgiven me if I had played 'hand-egg'."

The young engineer laughed. "That's what T'Pol calls it, too. All with a logical explanation, of course."

Maxwell couldn't help but laugh as well.

=/\=

"You ready for this?" Trip asked. "This time there are fifteen thousand people in there, and not all of them are goin' to welcome you."

T'Pol, lost for a better idea of calming his fears, leaned in and kissed him. "Let's re-evaluate that after I score my first goal," she said, despite knowing that coach Mancuso would not nominate her for the starting eleven.

"Nothing wrong with your self-esteem is there?" Charles asked with a smile, and she caressed his cheek with her right hand.

"It is only logical," she replied. "Jamieson is a capable player, but he is still recovering from an injury. He will tire within the first sixty minutes and the coach has no more alternatives."

"All the best," he said and walked away. T'Pol stood and watched until he was out of sight.

=/\=

Malcolm Reed was not best pleased. The first game of the season had so far been a drag. The opponent had pretty much all ten outfield players stationed around the penalty area, effectively destroying any attempt at playing; it was hardly surprising that the audience was getting restless after more than an hour of what looked likely to end up an utterly tedious nil-nil.

This was _not _a good advertisement for the game that the Yanks still blithely referred to as 'soccer'. He himself certainly wouldn't want to have paid good money to sit and watch this damned boring match for an hour and a half. A fair number of people had turned up out of curiosity; it would be surprising if many of them gave it a second try if they didn't see anything more worthwhile than they had so far.

Adding to that was the fact that Jamieson was dead on his legs. With all the grit of his Irish forebears the chap had given it his all, but just four weeks out of the hospital he was nowhere near full fitness. Malcolm glanced across at the bench, caught Mancuso's eye and rotated the index fingers of his two hands around each other, showing the coach that it was now time for the change they both knew was inevitable. On cue the sign went up, signalling a substitution: number nine was to give way to number fifty-seven. God knew why T'Pol had chosen that weird number, but so far there just hadn't been time for her team captain to ask if there was any particular reason.

"Ladies and gentlemen. Please welcome on the field – coming in for Paddy Jamieson – T'Pol of Vulcan!"

The announcement of the stadium reporter was met with mixed response, and Malcolm found himself seething at the few idiots, who chose to whistle. It was time to teach them a lesson.

When the Vulcan came on to the field, he immediately waved her to come over.

"T'Pol, d'you think you can whack one over their defence if I set you up with the right pass?" he asked.

"Their defense is fairly compact," she replied. "I would need a ball about thirty-four centimeters above ground at considerable speed."

Malcolm snorted in amusement. "Would thirty-five do?" There was no way anyone could fulfill T'Pol's requirement precisely but at the same time he knew she would get the job done if the parameters were only half-way right.

With a wave of his hand he summoned Masterson, the left midfielder.

"Jerry, I want you to go into centre field," the captain explained. "T'Pol, you stay with Jerry, just go where he goes, he knows my movements inside-out. I'll try to feed you as many passes as I can. It's the only way we're going to get past their bloody wall."

=/\=

"Dammit!" Maxwell swore. "That's not football. They aren't even playing!"

"I agree, their only goal seems to be avoiding defeat, as opposed to trying to win," Soval agreed. As newly minted owners of the club they were afforded the luxury of using the best of the VIP lounges, and since these were shielded from outside view the Vulcan Ambassador could indulge his human friend in wearing the 'traditional' apparel without causing censure among fellow Vulcans.

"Wait!" he heard the human shout and every further word just grew in volume as the admiral leaned forward in his chair, gesticulating as wildly as though his words and actions could influence what was going forward on the pitch. "Reed is past their bulldozer – pass it to T'Pol man, pass it, dammit, she's waiting! Yes Yes! YES!"

Soval sat back, tolerating the emotional indulgence of his friend in a regal manner. Moments before, T'Pol had finally managed to kick the ball into the opposing net with a risky long.-range shot. No doubt his niece would try to convince the humans that such things were normal on Vulcan, but in reality, while the calculations were simple to Vulcans, directing the device by no more input than positioning one's foot was everything but easy. The old Vulcan allowed himself a moment of pride regarding the aptitude of his brother's daughter before suppressing the momentary lack of emotional control.

He had feared that T'Pol would get caught in the wild display of celebration that humans were so fond of, but obviously her team mates respected the boundaries of propriety and confined their celebratory gestures to amicably patting her back. It was still more contact than Vulcan etiquette allowed, but the ambassador was realistic enough to know that for a species which thrived on emotions some sort of acknowledgment for the long-awaited goal was needed. With satisfaction he watched how T'Pol accepted the congratulations with well-trained serenity.

But the agreeable sensation of pride in T'Pol's achievement was soon supplanted by an undercurrent of concern. It was not something he could ever speak about to anyone, but the fact that T'Pol had most likely won the game for the team would no doubt awaken some of the baser, less agreeable instincts of Vulcan's dark past.

For all its rules against overt physical aggression, the human game was still a battle, merely one that all combatants survived under normal circumstances. As descendants of one of the galaxy's most volatile warrior races, the combative instincts were still present in all Vulcans. Soval could feel the onslaught of victorious euphoria in himself and it would no doubt take a very extended meditation to rein in these unwanted sensations bequeathed to him by his undesirable ancestors.

For T'Pol as a young female of child-bearing age, the consequences were potentially much more dire. Her ancient instincts would drive her to mate, a desire once rooted in the necessity to replace the lives lost on the battlefield. That the battle today had been a symbolic and non-lethal one made no difference. The base instincts of a Vulcan knew no reason.

All was now dependent on the self-restraint and creativity of a young human male. For the first time in his life Soval found himself wishing that, like Maxwell, he had a deity with whom he could plead for assistance.

=/\=

On their way home T'Pol was strangely silent. They'd arranged to be dropped off at the end of the road by taxi, and as they walked the last hundred meters Trip found it hard to keep up with her. More worrying by far, however, was the fact that she still didn't say anything at all, and he had no idea what was happening. Was she upset? Was she trying not to show her elation about having won the game? His guess seemed to be as good as anyone's.

They had barely cleared the entrance to his home when the Vulcan launched herself at him, devouring his mouth with a searingly hot kiss. They had not yet progressed to the stage of 'tongue-wrestling', but wherever she'd picked up the idea, T'Pol's tongue was so far down his throat, she almost caused a gag reflex.

It didn't take a warp specialist to see that whatever happened to her, the 'intimate desires' that the grumpy old Vulcan ambassador had warned him about were now coming to the fore at full force. The fact that she had removed his shirt without any thought of such mundane considerations as opening the buttons first was a clear sign that she was not necessarily inclined to discuss the afternoon's game.

Needless to say, the onslaught caused a very prominent gender-specific reaction on his part and he resigned himself to the fact that with T'Pol's obvious intention, the timing of developing their relationship was entirely dictated by her. His job was now finding the balance between satisfying her obvious desire while still heeding Soval's warning.

Using her momentary distraction with trying to remove his pants, Trip returned the favor by ruining her blouse by ripped it open with a swift motion. If her satisfied moaning was any indication, she wouldn't spend much time grieving for the destroyed piece of clothing.

Despite the wild dancing of their tongues in each other's throat, it didn't take him long before he had removed all clothing from her. Grabbing her by the hips, he shoved her towards the bedroom. The unprepared Vulcan stumbled backwards and came crashing down on the bed.

That was how a young engineer found himself being stared at greedily by a gorgeous and utterly naked female Vulcan.

=/\=

Breakfast was proceeding in silence and Trip felt uneasy. T'Pol wasn't talkative at the best of times, but this morning she was monosyllabic, even by Vulcan standards.

"Care to tell me what's eating you?" he asked. "I know last night wasn't exactly planned and if you're angry about me tying you down, I'm sorry, but..."

He stopped when T'Pol put up her hand to silence him.

"It is not you I am displeased with. You did everything you could to make sure I was not punishable by death now. It is my own behavior that I find disagreeable."

"What do you mean?"

"I know that human customs would not have included intimate relations at this early stage of our relationship. I failed to observe this custom. And even when you consented to having sexual relations with me, it was a completely one-sided endeavor. I should have researched ways to cater for your needs as well. I took advantage of you and I ask forgiveness for my misbehavior."

He couldn't help but laugh at the absurd anticlimax. It wasn't the best reaction to relieve her of her guilty feelings, but her self-recriminations just sounded too ridiculous.

"T'Pol," he opened, and gently took her hand. "First of all, the ambassador warned me that at some point you'd experience some sort of 'instinctual drive'. It's not something you can hold a person responsible for, and as you saw, I was prepared for it."

She was apparently determined not to be consoled. "I have read that the first indulgence in sexual relations is important to human couples. I do not think I provided you with a sufficiently memorable experience."

"And second," he said, still caressing the back of her hand, "if I wanted to have everything the human way, I'd have to choose a human woman. But I love a _Vulcan_ woman. That means I have to accept that some things are different. And trust me, last night was more than 'memorable'."

"I do not understand." Her eyes searched his face, and he hoped she read his sincerity in it.

"T'Pol, I got to have the most beautiful woman this side of the galaxy in my bed – naked. It would have been a memorable evening just lookin' at you. When it comes to beauty, believe me, humans are easily entertained at the best of times – and for a man, lookin' at the body of the woman he loves, let alone getting' to touch it, is just about the most wonderful thing in the world. Please stop seein' problems where they don't exist."

"But is it not required that both participants have their desires sated?" she argued stubbornly.

"True," he acknowledged. "But obviously whoever taught you about humans did not tell you the whole story. To put it bluntly: if I just wanted my 'desires sated' I could just as well stick it in a hole in the fence. Contrary to popular belief, human males do _not_ carry their brains in their genitals. A whole lot of what we get out of sex, out of lovemakin', is the satisfaction of knowin' how much pleasure we're givin' our partners. My first and foremost desire was to learn how to make you feel good. And without tootin' my own horn too much, I think that was a goal I achieved."

"You did," she confirmed and Trip smiled at the greenish blush creeping up her cheeks.

"So rather than dwellin' on problems that don't exist," he continued, "would you mind explainin' to me what happened last night? It seems like something I need to be prepared for."

She looked a little uncomfortable, but met his gaze squarely enough. "Our ancestors were a warrior race, and some of the ancient instincts are still present in modern day Vulcans. The soccer game was effectively a battle, and winning a battle causes... certain reactions."

"Wait, winnin' a game makes you horny?" He couldn't help it; he started to grin again.

"Battles on Vulcan were accompanied by substantial bloodshed. As an evolutionary result Vulcans of child-bearing age are driven to replace the lost life and the obvious choice is mating."

"Now I get an idea why you suppress your emotions so much," he noted, still holding her hand.

"Unfortunately, while we succeeded in overcoming our violent past through mastering our emotions with logic, some of the baser instincts still remain. It is not something my people are proud of."

"It's just the way you are," he said, kissing the back of her hand with a mischievous smile. "Now that I know, I'm gonna be rootin' for a win every weekend even more."

"There are easier ways to see me unclothed, beloved_._" She looked mildly reproachful.

The undercurrent of amusement in her voice was hard to miss, however, and Trip couldn't help but chuckle in response.

"There's that," he admitted. "But I tend to think that even though you're loath to admit it, winnin' a game makes you feel good."

"There is a certain element of euphoria..."

"Spoken like a true warrior," he said with a smile, and kissed the back of her hand again.

=/\=

"Alright folks," the coach started. "We started the season in style. Scoring against such a massed defense was a great achievement."

"It will not be enough in the future," T'Pol answered. "I noticed that the opposing players did not obstruct me with the same conviction as my team mates do in practice. Most likely they feared negative reactions to physically challenging a female. At some point in the future they will treat me harder."

"Agreed," Mancuso confirmed. "We relied too much on T'Pol once she came on. She certainly has some amazing shots, but we'll go up against better goalkeepers than yesterday. We need a plan B."

"If I may, Coach," Malcolm Reed interrupted. "T'Pol's strength is in long-range shots. Why don't we try playing her as an offensive midfielder? Masterson isn't a born striker, but he should manage it if he's properly fed."

"It would also allow Malcolm to give T'Pol instructions due to them playin' closer together in position."

All eyes turned to the engineer who now served as the tactical coach – however unlikely that might have seemed so short a while ago.

"I don't think T'Pol needs 'instructions'," Reed argued.

"She does, Malcolm. Your idea of her following Masterson's lead in the game last night was great, but it can't be a permanent solution. It will take time until T'Pol will be able to read the game on her own. Vulcans are amazing at crunching numbers and processing data, but they have no intuition."

"Charles is correct." T'Pol addressed the team's captain. "I cannot instinctively predict your next move in the way a human would. I calculate your most probable course of action based on my experience playing with you. Over time my predictions will become more accurate, but until then I would very much prefer to have visual or audible input on your intentions."

"We'd have to agree a set of gestures," the Brit suggested.

"Indeed."

=/\=

Trip and the head coach were sitting on the bench, watching the short twenty minutes training game that concluded each practice. The change in position for T'Pol seemed to worked well. Malcolm Reed had once been sent to infiltrate the team, but now that he had decided to blow his cover and stay with them, he had become the creative mind of the squad. Under his tutelage, the Vulcan became better every day at riddling out her human team mates.

"They're gonna hate us for that," Trip said in a mixture of disbelief and awe after T'Pol had whacked a thirty yards shot into the back of the net.

"If she ever gets the hang of her positioning, they'll try to ban her," the coach admitted. "She's simply amazing."

"I don't think that'll be necessary," the engineer replied, not without a note of regret. "T'Pol will play a season, two at most. I've been told I'm on the crew for the _Enterprise. _She launches a month after next season, and I don't think I'll be on it without T'Pol going too."

"The two of you are serious about each other aren't you?" Mancuso asked rhetorically.

"Yeah," the younger man answered. "Are we that obvious?"

"To a married man, yes. I've been happily married for over twenty years, but when I saw you and T'Pol in my office... Seriously, I thought you'd known each other all your life."

"It almost feels that way to me too," Trip said with a smile, but it was wiped off his face when they were confronted by three Vulcan soldiers with drawn weapons.

"Humans, you hold one of ours hostage. We demand to take custody of T'Pol of Vulcan immediately."

Trip's first reaction was to mock the Vulcan for missing the fact that T'Pol was on the field, but it would not help them in any way. In fact he saw out of the corner of his eyes that Malcolm Reed – bless him – had shielded T'Pol behind his back and was moving towards the far end of the field. He decided to go for broke, relying on the Ambassador's assumption that the High Command would not risk harming him.

"Have you asked T'Pol of Vulcan if she _wants_ to be taken into custody?" he challenged the tall leader of the group. "Last time I checked she's done nothing to warrant arrest."

"We have information that she mated with a human. Where is she?"

=/\=

Coach Mancuso tried to intervene, but the younger man was faster; before he quite knew what was happening, the Vulcan's collar was in the iron grip of a very infuriated engineer.

"You fuckin' pervert. Whatever you dreamed up, you're wrong! And what fuckin' business do you have nosin' around in T'Pol's private life anyway?"

Without bothering to reply, the Vulcan brutally backhanded him, and Mancuso's conversation partner as of ten minutes ago crashed into the guard rail, to fall down unconscious with a trickle of blood beginning to run down his face.

That was when all hell broke loose. With a bloodcurdling scream T'Pol came running their way, having abandoned the safety of Malcolm Reed as a human shield. Short bursts of weapons fire from different locations in the bushes around the field felled two of the Vulcans, but their leader, now taking aim at T'Pol, could not be hit without risk of injuring her as well. At least the coach assumed that as there was no reason to leave the most threatening of the attackers standing. It could only mean there was no way to hit him without causing other casualties as well.

The clearly furious woman was closing on them at the run, irrespective of the danger she was in. Her saw no other way to save her and without thinking twice Mancuso launched himself at the Vulcan.


	5. Fighting Back

"If you would leave us alone for a moment?"

To Trip's surprise, the doctor (whose name was apparently Phlox) answered Ambassador Soval's request only with a nod. Not having had the time to quiz the alien, he didn't know if 'Phlox' referred to the species or if it was his name – at least he assumed the doc was a 'he'.

"Care to tell me what happened?" Trip asked, agitated despite the debilitating headache. "Some Vulcan hit-men showed up tryin' to shoot T'Pol!"

"The Vulcan authorities have obviously seen yesterday's match," the Vulcan started.

"And they knew what netting the winner would do to T'Pol's hormones," Trip finished the thought aloud.

He could see a slight flinch from the elderly ambassador, probably caused by the instinctive Vulcan distaste of discussing such things. But then again, it had been Soval himself who had started that a couple weeks ago at the Embassy.

"Indeed." There was really no point in denying it.

"Where _is_ T'Pol?" Trip asked, not really sure what to expect.

"She is unharmed and in protective custody of Starfleet."

"They locked her up?"

"No, Lieutenant," the ambassador answered evenly. "She is residing in a room at the guesthouse of the Diplomatic Corps. This location was chosen because it is under guard at all times."

"Okay, so she's safe. That's good to hear."

"There is one… rather distasteful… task I have been presented with by the High Command," Soval said and Trip could almost hear the revulsion in the old Vulcan's voice.

"Let me guess," he said, sarcasm dripping from his voice. "You've been ordered to find out if she acted on the predictable reaction to her winning the battle."

Uncharacteristically, his conversation partner nodded wordlessly. It was not a normal reaction for a Vulcan.

"I take it that involves a medical check-up? Before you ask; yes, things got a bit rowdy, but I followed your advice to the letter – so in medical terms she's still a virgin."

It didn't take an expert in 'Vulcanology' to see that the grey-haired alien was embarrassed by having to wrestle such details out of him.

"I value your forthrightness on the matter, Lieutenant. She will indeed be ordered to undergo medical scanning, but if it alleviates your discomfort, no intimate probing will be needed. The pertinent data can be collected by a normal image scan."

"Can this Phlox do those scans? What species is he anyway?"

"Doctor Phlox is a Denobulan. They are a very advanced race in terms of medical science. He is part of the Interspecies Medical Exchange. And to answer your question – yes he can do the scans. The IME is run by the Vulcan Science Academy, so the High Command would have no grounds to dismiss his findings."

"Right," Trip decreed. "If T'Pol agrees, I'd prefer that he do the scans. I'm not really comfortable to let any Vulcans come near her at the moment. Present company excepted."

=/\=

It took him an unsettling long time to fully wake up, T'Pol thought after she had taken a seat at the side of Charles' biobed.

The alien doctor had already explained that he was suffering from a broken collar-bone and a substantial concussion as a result of the assault by a Vulcan agent. It took some constraint not to succumb to the rage that simmered inside her. But for the moment she needed to concentrate on her chosen, who lay before her, weakened by his injuries, his face discolored from the physical abuse. The thought that this abuse had been inflicted by a member of her own species threatened to bring the rage back to the fore, but she fought it down.

"Hi there, glad you're okay."

His voice was weak and his speech slightly slurred – an aftereffect of the strong pain medication he had been given by the medic. The alien had, however, assured her that Charles' mind was sufficiently clear to have a conversation, even though it was her impression that he did not condone her insistence on speaking to his patient.

"I am safe," she assured him. "We do, however, need to talk, at an appropriate time, about your predilection for 'picking fights' on my behalf. You were battered quite substantially."

"What happened anyway, me being knocked out early and everything?"

"This is not the time to recollect these events," the Vulcan rebuffed his curiosity.

"Has Soval told you about that ridiculous check-up they're demanding?"

"'They' are called the High Command, and yes, I was informed about the procedure. In fact, Doctor Phlox has already performed it – with the expected result."

"Seriously, that High Command of yours must have a hell of a lot of time on their hands. What kind of business of theirs is it if we… or not."

With satisfaction she noticed that a sternly raised eyebrow had been enough to warn him against mentioning what she was not willing to discuss in public. Her avoidance tactic was thwarted, however, when the Denobulan announced that he would leave them alone for a period of time.

"He's gone now," Charles insisted after the door had shut. "So, what bloody business is it of theirs, whether we had sex or not and whether or not you're still a virgin? It's ridiculous!"

"The actions of the High Command are not logical. They rarely have been since Administrator V'Las was elected. We both know it is merely a pretense to persecute me for my 'transgressions'. However, Ambassador Soval has developed a strategy to use that to our advantage."

"I'm all ears."

She had by now deciphered the meaning of this often-used metaphor and merely acknowledged it with a flick of her brow. However, her chosen's attempt to sit up resulted in considerable pain, so she partly helped and partly forced him to lie down again and put a calming hand on his chest. He covered her hand with one of his own. She was not entirely comfortable with such touch outside the sanctity of their home, but there was nobody else present, so there was no logic in denying him this little intimacy.

"Since, according to the scan we did not engage in… intimate relations, and, except for perhaps a few xeno-biologists, Vulcans are unaware of the… alternative methods, he can now make the case that I am forced to suppress one of the most primal instincts of our species. He believes he can use that information as leverage to accelerate the process of having my betrothal annulled."

"A primal instinct you brought on yourself by engaging in a human game," he argued and she looked at him in confusion. Why was he arguing against the ambassador's plans?

"Just playing devil's advocate here," he continued as if he had read her thoughts. "Instead of relieving you from the need to suppress something, they could just as well say you caused it yourself by playing football and living with a pesky human."

"You are not 'pesky'," she protested, but stopped in abashment at her openly emotional response.

"That's nice to know, darlin'," he said with mirth in his eyes. "But your High Command thinks we're all apes. Just look what ridiculous depths they stoop to because of what they think we did."

T'Pol was slightly overwhelmed. She had expected that he would welcome Ambassador Soval's plan with more enthusiasm. Obviously she had not given enough credit to Charles' ability not to build up his hopes too much. But on the other hand it was not the first time that he was challenging her preconceptions in a positive way.

"Ambassador Soval has already foreseen this option and has requested the help of Hoshi Sato. As a human with appropriate knowledge of the old Vulcan dialects she was able to research ancient texts in the Vulcan database and on artifacts in the possession of our clan without being influenced by the official dogmas of the High Command and the Ministry of Science. Her findings were… enlightening."

"Don't tell me Vulcans played football once."

She could hear the mirth resonating in his question.

"No, they did not." She cast him a severe look for his levity in a serious matter. "However, there were competitive tournaments in Vulcan history, which served the sole purpose of determining a winner."

"Until Surak came along and said you should use logic instead," he continued, grinning.

"You are mistaken. It was Surak, and his followers, who introduced the activity. Even though he and his disciples embraced logic to overcome our violent past, the passions were still there. Instead of suppressing these passions, as we do today, Vulcans at the Time of Awakening apparently channeled them into competitive sports with strict rules to avoid injury and death."

"That doesn't quite square up with what you guys are saying these days."

"An apt observation," T'Pol agreed. "Surak's original teachings are lost, so by being perpetuated from generation to generation they became open to… interpretation."

"Sounds familiar," he said and she surmised that he was referring to the different religious teachings on Earth. The similarities were indeed hard to miss.

"Although not a religion, Surak's teachings seem to have undergone the same corruption as many of the religious texts on Earth."

"And if we continue that line of logic, all this High Command skullduggery happens to protect their precious dogma and they don't even stop at the blatantly ridiculous to silence anyone who might challenge it. Let me guess: if the Vulcan public learned that their government sent a commando unit to arrest a female to undergo a virginity test, some of them would raise an eyebrow – or whatever it is they do when they're scandalized."

"This is not a matter for untimely 'jokes', Charles."

This, however, only served to stir his indignation. Again he sat up and ignored the pain. He was clearly upset.

"T'Pol, I'm not jokin' here. Your friggin' High Command wanted to detain you for nothing more than that you _maybe_ had sex - something that's nobody's business but your own. I don't care what the real reasons are. If it was for me, I'd let the whole population of Vulcan know what they did. Let's see what happens then."

Gently she lowered his upper body back to the biobed again.

"Your willingness to defend my dignity at all costs honors you," she said and gently cupped his cheek on the non-discolored side of his face. "However, your course of action would serve no purpose. Most Vulcans would be more scandalized by me having chosen a human. Vulcans of this time value uniformity. Individualism is seen as a disruption, and - if at all - practiced only in one's own home. We are not very adept at becoming dissidents."

"You're making my point darlin'," he insisted. "They snoop into what happens in _our_ home. And from what Soval has explained, that's the ultimate offense on Vulcan."

=/\=

"Indeed it is," a now familiar voice said from behind the privacy screen.

Trip gasped. When had Soval shown up?

"What are you?" he asked when the old Vulcan stepped into sight. "Are you some sort of ghost, who shows up whenever he's mentioned?"

"I am not. I entered the room forty seconds ago. Apparently your spirited debate made you oblivious to my attempts at making my presence known."

So much was obvious, Trip thought to himself. It was not that the grey-haired ambassador was strictly unwelcome. He had in fact become somewhat of a mentor in his attempt to adjust to life with a Vulcan female. However, in this case, his unexpected arrival had caused T'Pol to clam up, and he didn't quite like that fact.

"I only heard the last part of your conversation," the Vulcan continued without much further explanation. "However, I find myself in unexpected agreement with Lieutenant Tucker. This latest folly of the High Command was an outrageous transgression and an insult to our clan. We must not let such an pass intrusion unchallenged."

"Before we start holding a council of war," Trip said, "I doubt I can get you to call me Trip, but can we at least agree on calling me Charles when we are not meeting on official Starfleet business?"

"Agreed," Soval answered. "However, our answer is not war. There are other ways to challenge the High Command over this issue."

"I'm all ears," he said, smiling at T'Pol's eye-roll.

"The true teachings of Surak are believed to be lost," the alien elder explained, giving Trip a sense of déjà-vu, having heard the same from T'Pol less than an hour ago. "Miss Sato, however, found a passage on one of our ancient artifacts that mentions an artifact called _Kir'Shara_, which is supposedly still on Vulcan and contains an original recording of Surak's teachings."

This sounded more like a tall tale, Trip thought. This whole thing had more logical plot-holes than a third-rate trash movie.

"Sorry, Soval, but even my pain-med addled brain can see a few flaws in that logic. First of all – why is that artifact of yours here on Earth and not on Vulcan? Second, if all this was written on it, why did you need Hoshi to find out? And third, if you have such an artifact, how come nobody else does? In almost two thousand years _someone_ must have stumbled across something like that."

"I shall endeavor to address your questions. Concerning the location of the artifact: as the clan's patriarch it is my task to preside over the clan's historic possessions, and since I reside on Earth, it is only logical that our historic items do so as well."

"So if anyone from your clan wants to see them they have to come here?"

"These are not museum items, Charles," T'Pol chipped in. "They are kept for their historic importance. If I recall correctly, Miss Sato is only the third person to see them in my lifetime."

"Indeed," Soval agreed and Trip thought he could hear a hint of softness in the usually even voice of the patriarch. "Fifty years ago a young clansman, an archeologist, requested access to them and I remember a very inquisitive child being most insistent to accompany him for the chance to look at the clan's oldest relics."

Trip couldn't help but grin at the slight greenish blush creeping up T'Pol's cheeks. It didn't take a rocket scientist to guess who that 'inquisitive child' had been.

"But why did it take Hoshi to find out about that other artifact? Why not that clansman of yours? As an archaeologist he should have been the first to notice."

"As improbable as it sounds, we have nobody in the clan who can read the old scripts. Miss Sato is indeed a very remarkable individual. She decoded the old script in a matter of hours."

"Wow! I knew Hoshi was good, but _that_ good…"

"Indeed," the old Vulcan agreed. "To answer your third question: it is likely that our artifacts are the only ones mentioning the _Kir'Shara_. Surak's blood-line has been extinct for centuries. However T'Pol and I are descendants of the House of T'Klaas, Surak's first student and the first _Kohlin'ahr_ master. It is unlikely that Surak distributed the knowledge of the location of the artifact widely."

BOOM! Soval did not strike him as someone likely to tell fairy-tales, so if this was all true, Hoshi had stumbled upon a game changer.

"So, if I put one and one together, you plan to find this artifact with Surak's teachings," Trip said. "But then what?"

"We overthrow the High Command," Soval replied dryly.

"You're planning a coup d'état?" the American asked in disbelief. "Over T'Pol and me?"

"The latest transgression is merely the 'straw that breaks the ungulate's back'," Soval started, but stopped when Trip couldn't hold back a snicker.

"The _camel's_ back," he corrected Soval's attempt at human vernacular.

The Vulcan was clearly not impressed by the interruption though. He frowned reproachfully at the irrelevant amendment, and continued, "The necessity to remove V'Las' government from power has been present for some time. However we lacked the options so far. Due to the incident involving you, we came into contact with Miss Sato. Her arrival was not only fortunate; she also developed a rather grim determination to find something, once she learned that Charles was involved, even though she had no other details."

_Jeez, thanks a bunch, Soval, _Trip thought with a pang of exasperation, and hoped that Vulcans were not prone to jealousy. If T'Pol's flaring nostrils were something to go by, however, they were.

=/\=

All the time that Soval has explained his – frankly crazy – plan to topple the government, T'Pol had not said a word. So now that the clan's patriarch had left as quickly as he had appeared, it was time for the inevitable confrontation.

"Out with it," he said curtly.

"Do you and Miss Sato have… a history?" came the inevitable question and even though she was plainly trying to conceal it, he could hear clearly in her voice that she was upset by the idea.

"Yes we do," he said, waiting for her reaction, but none came. He wondered what the Vulcan term for 'being in the dog house' was. "But before you go off half-cocked; The reason why Hoshi went to town when she heard about me is because she finally has a way to 'pay me back', so to say. Hoshi and I met during my senior year at the academy. She was a freshman back then, and although she looks like a naïve little schoolgirl, who can do no wrong, Hoshi's quite a lively fire-cracker."

He decided to leave it at that, as the naïve part was pretty accurate back then.

"Anyway," he continued his explanation. "Some of her more, let's say, brazen stunts, had consequences she hadn't thought about before, and I got her out of some tight situations more than once. You could say I was something of a big brother, who looked out for her. Back then she said that if I ever need help, she'd stop at nothing to return the favor. Well, she apparently kept her word."

"She is repaying a debt of honor?" T'Pol asked. The strained note had gone out of her voice, and been replaced with hope.

"As far as I'm concerned she never owed me anything, but yes, Hoshi was sort of obsessed with helping me out one day. That's why she went berserk over those writings - that and the fact that she could never pass up a chance to decipher yet another language or dialect."

"Are you at liberty to tell me what 'stunts' she performed?"

"No, I'm not T'Pol," he said, exasperated by the useless grilling. "I'm not sure Hoshi still wants some of the things she did put out in the open. But you've obviously spoken to her before. Why don't you just ask her? If she's okay with it, she'll tell you."

He could hear her take a deep breath and that, according to his experience with the Vulcan, meant she was preparing to deliver a zinger.

"Have you been… intimate?"

BOOM!

He sighed. "T'Pol, no we haven't. But even if we had, what difference would it make? Look, when we decided to give this relationship a go, we went in with all the baggage that it brings with it. I can't expect you to behave like a human female and never would. I have to accept the limitations that come with you being a Vulcan, like not touching in public."

She didn't answer, so he continued.

"But when you chose a human, that brought on some realities to accept for you as well. One of them is, that it is normal for the majority of humans, both male and female, to have more than one sexual partner in our lifetime. The fact that I had sex with other women before you is a fact you have to live with. The moment we confessed our love to each other was the moment that all the women in the galaxy went off-limits for me. There will only be you, but there have been intimate contacts before I ever met you, and you can't go off your rocker every time you see someone you think I had sex with."

"Vulcan females are… possessive," she admitted in a meek voice, sounding properly chastised.

"I know, T'Pol, and that's exactly why I will never talk about any intimacy of mine in the past, nor will I answer questions about it. If you want my advice, talk to Hoshi. You'll see that she would never have slept with me, and neither would I have taken her to bed, ever. Or would you have sex with your brother?"

"You and Miss Sato are not siblings," she said, puzzled.

"Not in a biological sense, but in here we are," he said, tapping at his heart. "I think you'll notice that if you talk to her."

The door chime interrupted them.

"Come!" he commanded and to his surprise, Malcolm Reed and coach Mancuso stepped behind the privacy screen.

"It looks like we have the same beautician," Trip quipped sarcastically when he saw Mancuso's face full of bruises.

"Damn right," the coach grumbled. "How are you?"

"Broken collarbone, concussion and I won't win any beauty contest anytime soon, you?"

"For me it's only the ban from the Miss World contest."

T'Pol looked positively chagrined. "Coach it would perhaps be prudent to terminate my participation. It is unacceptable that the team is put in danger because of me."

"Bullcrap," the older man answered gruffly. "We won't have a bunch of henchmen chase off our biggest talent. You should have seen the team's answer."

Trip looked at him expectantly, as did his better half.

"We tied them up, threw them on the back of a pickup and dumped them unceremoniously in front of the Vulcan consulate," Malcolm Reed supplied with a very British snicker.

"In full uniform?" Trip asked, pointing at Reed's Starfleet flight suit.

"No, I got that afterwards. Gardner himself has appointed me T'Pol's personal bodyguard. Whenever she's travelling in public, I won't be far away. I hope you're OK with that?"

"A trained and seasoned security offer keeping my better half safe? Nope, I don't think I can accept that," Trip snorted with a smirk.

=/\=

Minister Kuvak had to summon all restraint to avoid reacting in an unseemly fashion to Administrator V'Las' outburst. For the highest ranked official, such an openly emotional display was most unbecoming. And such instances of open emotionalism were becoming increasingly frequent, and at some point the question would have to be asked if the Administrator was suffering from the onset of _Bendii_ syndrome. The illness would explain the frequent emotional outbursts, but not the erratic nature of some of the latest edicts issued by the High Command's leading figure.

"Another protest note from the humans," V'Las seethed. "We must deal with this insubordination."

"The humans are our allies, not our subjects, Administrator."

Kuvak's words were measured, his voice even and controlled, but he knew that V'Las would nonetheless consider it an affront to be corrected in front of the Council.

"They need our guidance," the administrator replied. "Instead they rebel like unruly children and interfere with Vulcan matters."

"Vulcan matters, Excellency?" Kuvak asked and waved the PADD at his superior. "Have you read the note from the human Embassy? Three of our agents stormed a human recreational facility in an attempt to capture a Vulcan citizen. Two humans were harmed in the process. One is still in a medical facility."

"It was a necessary measure. We can't allow the human influence on our personnel to bring chaos and anarchy to our society."

"And we prevent that by forcing females to undergo 'virginity tests' against their will and against our own laws?" the younger Minister replied.

Seeing the questioning looks of his fellow councilmen, he explained further. "I had to call the United Earth Embassy to have this term explained to me. It is a medical procedure to determine if a female has ever mated. Such an intrusion of privacy, even more so by force, is unprecedented and completely unacceptable."

Uncharacteristic murmuring among the other council members told Kuvak that he was not the only one in the room who considered the implications of what the humans decried as wholly distasteful.

"Would you rather have a betrothed Vulcan female fornicate with a human?" V'Las asked in an accusatory tone.

"The same female that has sought annulment of her betrothal for months?" the Minister shot back. As Soval's younger brother, he was of course well familiar with the circumstances of his niece's life. "An annulment she should long have been granted after her betrothed decided to _fornicate_ with another female."

"We cannot grant an annulment that would legalize her cohabitation with an alien!" the Administrator replied, his passions flaring again. "Can't you see where that would lead us? Birth rates have been unsatisfactory for decades. We will soon be unable to draft enough military personnel to fight Andoria. We cannot lose females in fertile age to barbarians."

Kuvak sat back, unsettled by V'Las' cynical explanation, and decided to fight this. But before he could formulate a response, the Administrator was already declaring his verdict.

"We cannot do anything at the moment. A diplomatic incident at this time would be undesirable. However, the betrothal will not be annulled. The matter is closed."

=/\=

The quarters of Miss Sato were very orderly and well maintained. Charles' residence had not been as chaotic as the rumors at the Vulcan consulate had suggested she should expect, but the home of the young linguist was even more orderly. She wondered if the young human already knew why she had asked for a private discussion. The fact that she had been invited to the other woman's home made it a distinct possibility.

Two cups had been placed on the table, and when her host came back into the living room, she had changed clothes. Instead of her uniform she now wore a pair of tight fitting knee-long pants and no shirt. Her body was completely bare from the waist up. T'Pol raised her eyebrow in curiosity.

"I hope you aren't embarrassed or anything?" the human asked in reference to her state of partial undress. "It's just that I feel most comfortable this way."

"It is no inconvenience, ensign. I have no doubt you know that removing unnecessary clothing in one's home at the height of summer is common practice on Vulcan."

"First things first; since you said this is a private talk, may I suggest addressing each other without titles or other formalities? I'm Hoshi."

"T'Pol," she replied while the human poured tea into the cups. The smell of the beverage was unfamiliar, but not at all unpleasant.

"May I ask a question?" her young host opened. Does this talk have to do with what bothers the Ambassador?"

"I do not understand."

"Well, when I went to the Embassy again this morning, Ambassador Soval was – there's no other way to say it – he was moping around. It took a while to get it out of him, but he thinks he has unsettled yours and Trip's relationship by an innocent remark."

T'Pol flinched, and had to suppress the instinctive onslaught of possessiveness when she heard the young female use the 'nickname' that only close acquaintances used to address Charles. Her reaction had not gone unnoticed.

"That answers it," her conversation partner said with a smile. "I've read about the possessiveness of Vulcan females, and you're now wondering why I pulled a thirty-six hour shift when I heard that Trip was involved; and I bet you're wondering even more if he's ever seen me like this."

The young woman was pointing at her bare torso when she concluded the statement.

Unsure whether she would be able to keep her emotions out of her voice, T'Pol just nodded.

"To answer the second question first – yes – he's seen me like that, hundreds of times actually. Trip is the only man I was comfortable enough with to meet him like that when he dropped by, and since he single-handedly prevented me from failing the tactics seminar in the second semester, we met quite often. That's how much of a sweetheart he is. He was neck-deep in studying for his final exams, yet he still found time to help me with those dry tactical lessons two or three times a week."

"He did not mention that," T'Pol said tersely.

"Of course he didn't," Hoshi said, smiling again. "I can see how you react. If you were like that after the Ambassador left, he was probably too scared to say anything."

"Indeed, his description was somewhat vague. He only spoke of 'brazen stunts' and saving you from 'tight situations'," the Vulcan admitted. The human woman sitting on the table across from her seemed willing to 'tell the whole story' as Charles would probably express it.

"That's a nice way of saying he saved me from being raped."

T'Pol couldn't contain her shock, and gasped.

"Look," her host said, and gazed at her a little wearily. "Back then I was an utterly naïve young thing. You see, I like being naked and even though nature was really miserly, I like it when I'm admired."

For explanation the young woman pointed at her bare bust. Indeed her breasts were rather diminutive in comparison to her own, but T'Pol did not really understand why the size would make a difference. Even to a fellow female, the physique of the young human was fairly attractive looking.

"Anyway, back then I ran a poker scheme at STC and while I wasn't the only one to do so, my meetings were by far the most popular. Mainly because I used to do a striptease whenever someone had a Royal Flush and if that didn't happen all evening, I just made up some reason toward the end of the evenings."

"I take it, 'striptease' has to do with being seen unclothed?"

"Exactly; It's a seductive dance and you undress in the process. You can probably tell that I didn't have the greatest self-esteem back then, but at the time I basked in the feeling of dozens of men looking at me as if I'm the most beautiful creature they'd ever seen. Well, until that one night at the start of the second semester…"

"Something went wrong," T'Pol theorized, remembering that Hoshi had spoken about being saved from rape.

"Badly wrong," her host explained with a wry expression. "Normally I never undressed completely. I always kept on a pair of panties – they were skimpy, but there. That night, however, a couple of guys had been treating me to several drinks, so I was fairly tipsy and went the full mile. I stripped down to absolutely nothing, and as it turned out that had been the plan of those scumbags all along.

"They apparently thought that because I had shown them my pussy they were entitled to touch and make use of it. They cornered me and started pushing those fat fingers anywhere and everywhere, and they really thought this would get me going."

T'Pol was completely lost for words. The vulgar choice of words made it clear that the young woman before her was recalling some truly unpleasant memories.

"And Charles saved you from them," she said, surprised by the croaking tone of her voice.

"Came in like a trooper and bashed them all to bits," Hoshi confirmed. "He never reproached me for my silliness, but he spent days trying to talk me out of any further performances. For a while I actually stopped and I didn't really care about the dwindling crowd, but I started missing the admiring looks. So I started doing it again, but I never drank anymore and Trip was always there, making sure nobody came near me when the performance was over. He was my big brother protecting me from the bad boys."

With surprise T'Pol noticed that tears welled up in the young woman's eyes. With humans one never knew if these meant being emotionally moved or in grief, but her theory was that the young woman was just thankful for Charles' help at the time.

"I find it surprising that you did not develop a strong affection to each other," the Vulcan noted, seeing that Hoshi was obviously quite fond of Charles, but strangely in a different way, one that would probably be impossible to explain.

"We _do_ have a strong affection, just not as lovers," Hoshi explained. "Remember the incident in the sports shop? I told you about men being hard-wired to react? Trip rarely reacted to me. For him, I'm the second baby sister of his beside Lizzy. I occasionally asked him to wash my back and help me get my long hair bunched up after a shower. There I was stark naked and nothing happened… with him… you know with a man you can tell."

"It sounds as if you were not entirely agreeable to this different nature of your relationship," T'Pol said, hoping it would not sound too obviously like an accusation.

"For a short while," the young human admitted. "But that ended pretty quickly when I realized what a wonderful friend I had found. I never had siblings and with Trip I have a big brother now, I would never miss that for the world. Boyfriends come and go, but brothers are with you, always."

The sheer passion in the young human's explanation was almost overwhelming. What it did mean, however, was that she would, to a degree, have to share Charles' affection with the woman before her. As a mate, he would always be hers, but there were obviously other women, the one sitting across the table and the biological sibling called Lizzie. As the passionate man she had come to know him, he would never neglect these other social contacts and she did not feel inclined to force him to.

It would just take a period of adjustment. Vulcan females were not evolved to share the affection of their mate with anyone but their own offspring. The challenge would not be easy.


	6. Extra Time

Hoshi looked on patiently while her guest obviously pondered a whole host of conflicting thoughts. Truth be told, of course, she had divulged a few details that were not best suited to alleviate the fears of a jealous female, but if that woman on the other side of the table would ever expect to be worthy of her 'big brother's' affection, she'd better get to grips with it.

The next question, however, took her by surprise.

"Hoshi, is it appropriate for a human 'baby sister' to comment on her brother's private affairs?"

"Oh, that depends on _what parts_ of his private affairs we're talking about."

"It concerns the matter of physical intimacy," the Vulcan replied dryly and Hoshi spluttered.

"You want to talk about your sex life?" she asked in disbelief.

"It is not a matter of wishing to do so, but a matter of necessity."

"Okay then," Hoshi said and refilled the cups. This could become interesting.

=/\=

_A week later…_

Trip swiped his credit card through the reader when the taxi driver had delivered him safely from Starfleet Medical to his home. The elderly man offered to carry the duffel inside for him, but he declined. The bag that contained merely the few clothes and bits and pieces that T'Pol had brought him to the hospital was hardly heavy enough to put any strain on his recently mended collarbone.

When he opened the door he recoiled slightly at the heat of the air inside. Well, that meant T'Pol had already moved back in from the Starfleet guest house, and by what it felt like, she was suffering a bit of home-sickness. The temperatures were truly Vulcan-esque.

The reason for this became quite obvious when it became apparent that T'Pol had indeed been talking to Hoshi, as he was met by the unbelievable sight of a topless Vulcan in yoga pants. The duffel slipped off his shoulder and he stood in the corridor – flabbergasted.

The sight of a half-naked female was nothing new to him – it was Hoshi's standard dress code. But this was not Hoshi. T'Pol prancing around with her assets hanging free brought up distinctly other ideas than 'having tea', ideas that were still dangerous. He still had the bruises to prove it. T'Pol was playing with fire.

She greeted him with a simple "Welcome back, beloved" and went back to preparing the breakfast table as if it was the most normal thing in the world to do so without a shirt.

"Now that's something I hadn't expected," he said.

It was a lame reply, but what was one to say if one came home after an early morning release from hospital to be greeted by such a spectacular sight? For the moment he concentrated on trying not to dribble.

=/\=

For the second time today Trip yanked his credit card through the reader of the grey-haired taxi driver, and the action set him wondering just how long those poor guys had to work each day to make a living.

As luck would have it, it was the same driver who'd collected him at the hospital in the morning, and that had been almost twelve hours ago. Taking the large bouquet of flowers from the rear seats, he got out and bade the man a fond farewell.

=/\=

"It's me, Trip," he reported into the intercom after his ringing the door bell had been answered by an inquiry into his identity. The door release mechanism unlocked and he stepped in and had a distinct sense of déjà-vu as – yet again – he was greeted by a topless female. Thankfully the treacherous organ in his pants was not in danger of embarrassing him again as it had done in the morning. The sight of Hoshi in her accustomed domestic dress was infinitely less threatening to his hormonal setup.

"Hey buddy," she greeted him with a short hug and reached for the flowers. "For me?"

He just nodded with a smile.

"And you even remembered my favorite color!"

"You – yellow, Lizzie – white, mum – yellow, too," he listed. "There's some things a man needs to remember."

"How are you?" Hoshi asked while unwrapping the flowers. "You look horrible."

"Thanks, and you look gorgeous as ever," he replied with a wink. "Don't worry. It was nothing that couldn't be mended. It's not like I'm a stranger to Starfleet Medical."

"Sorry I couldn't drop by," she apologized while putting the greenery into a vase. "I…"

"… was busy rummagin' through the heirlooms of T'Pol's clan, I know," he finished the sentence and gave her a small peck on the cheek. "No need to apologize. Thanks to you, T'Pol and I now get to help Soval stage a coup d'état on Vulcan."

"Sit down," she offered. "Tea?"

"I was more like hopin' for a coffee. I don't get any at home anymore."

Hoshi's silvery laughter filled the room when he put on a fake pout.

"Ah, that's why you finally managed to drop by," she said in a mock-accusatory tone. It had indeed been a while since he'd been at Hoshi's place. With her working in Brazil, sometimes for weeks, their differing schedules made it difficult to find the time.

=/\=

"So, tell me: How was your day?" she asked after putting the cups down on the table. She smiled at his eye-roll. She had, course, known about the 'surprise' T'Pol had prepared for him in the morning and was determined to make him blush.

"As if you don't know," he said, and sure as the Amen in church his cheeks heated up, but his dreamy smile made it clear that he didn't mind. "I don't think it was T'Pol's idea to crawl under the breakfast table and … well, do what she did."

"It _was_ her idea," Hoshi insisted with a mischievous grin. "I only gave her pointers on 'what to do'."

"That must have been an interesting talk of yours if the matter of blow-jobs came up at some point."

Her expression grew serious. This goofball surrogate brother of hers needed to understand what a leap of faith his better half had taken, and what a lucky guy he was to have her.

"She specifically asked for advice, Trip. She explained that messed-up situation you two are in and she was feeling sort of inadequate, because she had no ideas about how to 'reciprocate', as she put it. I don't think I need to tell you how much guts it took for her to even speak about such things."

"No, you don't need to tell me that," he said. "And I probably can't thank you enough for your help in that regard, too. She's sometimes gettin' obsessed with being 'adequate'. She simply doesn't believe me that she's perfect as she is. Instead she gets jealous of you."

"It's not like T'Pol has a Vulcan text book to go by," she reminded him. "For you, everything looks normal. You met a girl, you fell in love and you moved in together. But for a _Vulcan_ it's all wrong. It's practically inevitable that she's confused about almost everything, and to top it off she's now supposed to accept that you're sitting here with half-naked me and that we really just drink coffee, and that we _don't_ do what the two of you can't because of that messed-up political situation back on her home world. For a Vulcan that's a massive pill to swallow. Give her time."

"Messed up sums it up quite well," he said and she heard him sigh. "All I want to do is live with her in peace. Did she tell you what Soval has in store for us?"

"She did, and I'll probably come with you," Hoshi declared, causing him to look at her in surprise.

"Trip, you are going to look for a two-thousand year old artifact. None of T'Pol's clan could decipher the artifacts in Soval's inventory. How much of a chance is there of finding an expert on ancient Golic Vulcan in the middle of the desert?"

"All true, Hoshi, but didn't she tell you what sort of place that is? It's a hell-hole."

"_You_ are the one who hates the desert," she pointed out. "If it wasn't for me making sure of being teamed up with you during that survival training in the outback… I was the only one who could get away with kicking your butt as hard as you needed to make it through."

"That's when the rumors started, wasn't it," he remembered and she could see the fond smile on his face.

"Well it's not like my dress code was a secret," she replied with a smile. "Everybody knew I'm almost never wearing a shirt in my dorm room. With you dropping by two, three times a week, nobody would believe that we weren't rutting like rabbits."

"Some of my pals actually started thinking I was gay, when I kept insisting that nothing was happening," she heard him add with a snicker.

"You see, most humans can't square it up that I can sit here like that and neither of us would even think about it ending up between the sheets. How is T'Pol supposed to accept that at face value? She'll need time to adjust."

"It was she who told me to meet you in person to say thanks. You know me, I could and would have done that via terminal and have the flowers delivered to your door."

"It's a demonstration of her faith in you," Hoshi said. "She'll probably quiz you incessantly tonight, but it's a first step she's taking to get used to it. This is another reason I want to go with you to Vulcan. If she's there to see us interact with each other for a longer time, it'll go a long way towards alleviating her fears."

"Hell of a place to choose for that," he said with a snort.

=/\=

Trip sat on the biobed, waiting for Doctor Phlox to return with the results of the check-up that would hopefully clear him for return to duty. Life had been surprisingly quiet, considering that just little over a week ago the Vulcan High Command had sent a commando unit after them.

After the disruption due to T'Pol's jealousy of Hoshi, things had settled down a bit on that front as well. Of course Hoshi's words had struck a chord. If not even the people back at the academy could believe that nothing was up between them, for T'Pol it must be an impossible stretch of the imagination.

True to Hoshi's prediction, T'Pol had grilled him over his visit, and at some point she even must have had managed to sniff him as that was the only way she could have found out that he had drunk coffee. Thankfully she had not made an issue of it, but she was certainly making a fuss about him having a healthy lifestyle.

With anyone else, including Hoshi, he would have felt like being nannied and most likely not reacted to it particularly well, but T'Pol's reasons ran deeper. If both of them reached their respective life expectancy, he had 70 years to live at best, while for T'Pol it was in the ball park of 130 to 140 years, so she was hell-bent of making him live to a Biblical age if possible. He didn't even want to start considering what it would feel like for him if he knew that he would lose T'Pol halfway into what remained of his life.

For the moment, however, there were more immediate plans to go through with. First of all, he needed a clean bill of health as he wanted to see tonight's game – T'Pol's second for the Mariners – from the coaching bench in the stadium, not on a live-stream at home. And the next day they were supposed to meet a 'contact' in preparation of their mission to Vulcan. Who would have thought that his first visit to T'Pol's home world would be to stage a rebellion?

When he saw the impossibly wide grin on the face of the returning Denobulan, he knew that the scans had brought the desired results.

=/\=

When he entered the team's locker room, the greeting was enthusiastic. While coach Mancuso and T'Pol had returned to practice shortly after the incident, he had waited until Doctor Phlox had cleared him for duty. It wasn't a good idea to be seen in a public place like a stadium while still on medical leave, and with the Vulcans gunning for them, one could never know if they wouldn't use such a formality to get him into trouble.

Mancuso had visited him in the hospital daily, so he had been kept in the loop about the tactical situation and therefore knew that T'Pol would find herself in the starting line-up for the first time – as an offensive midfielder. In reality she was more like a 'long range striker' as her lack of tactical experience prevented her from becoming a classic playmaker. That job fell to Malcolm Reed, who was on double duty as the creative center of the game and tactical guide for T'Pol.

It was just too bad that he had missed last week's training sessions, as T'Pol was always good for a stunner. She did, for instance, categorically refuse to play headers, insisting that it was an unhealthy practice. When Reed had lobbed her a high pass, that every other player on the world would have just nodded in, she, (according to the coach) launched the 'greatest bicycle-kick since Ibrahimovic', just to avoid heading the ball.

=/\=

When they walked out onto the green the first thing Malcolm Reed noticed was the deafening roar from the crowd. With close to sixty-thousand seats the Mariner stadium was hopelessly over-sized for a second-division team that was semi-professional at best. Most of the players had day jobs, so only half of the team's members were full-time professional players. The size of the place was a stark reminder of the better times the side had seen in the past.

Today, however, every bloody seat had a bum in it. Starfleet and the Section had done their best to cover up the nature of the incident, but of course they couldn't keep it a complete secret and when some local newspaper hacks had come up with a tall tale of some machos having attacked the newest addition to the team – ostensibly out of disagreement with recruiting the first female player in the league – they had gladly gone along with the bullshit story. Everything was fine as long as the Vulcan involvement was kept out of public knowledge.

The local population had apparently rallied to show their support and the unmistakably higher frequency of the noise left no doubt that the percentage of women and girls in the crowd had skyrocketed. This game would definitely smash every attendance record for a second division fixture. A look into the faces of the opposing team told him that most of the players were intimidated by the atmosphere, except for three older players, who had probably spent most of their life in the top-flight and were now letting their long careers peter out in a lesser team.

=/\=

Soval sat in the sanctity of their VIP lounge looking down at the beginning game. In his mind he commended his niece on the calm equanimity with which she received the obvious adoration of the human spectators. Normally most Vulcans would find so much attention unsettling, but in this case the obvious acceptance of one of theirs by so many humans bade well for future relations between their two species. In her short time with the human team, T'Pol had certainly done more to further those relations than anything the High Command had ever attempted.

As for the previous game he was wearing the garishly colored scarf to satisfy Maxwell's enthusiasm. The only difference to the game two weeks in the past was that this time the lounge was populated by three spectators as Ensign Hoshi Sato had joined them upon his invitation. He would be eternally grateful for her defusing the disruption he had brought to T'Pol and Charles' relationship. Added to that was the invaluable service she had rendered by being the first to successfully decode the inscriptions on the clan's oldest relics and historic scrolls.

For most Vulcans, working with the young female would most likely be considered 'taxing', as the human linguist was quite expressive with her emotions and almost always in a positive mood. While many on his home world would consider her frequent smiles a distasteful emotional indulgence, many years on the alien planet had made him appreciate the smile of a beautiful woman. Feeling discomforted by an aesthetically pleasing young female expressing her contentment was patently illogical and only served as a reminder of just how far Vulcan had strayed from the wisdom Surak had once brought to their world.

"Who's that fellow who keeps gesticulating to T'Pol all the time?" he heard the young human ask.

"His name is Malcolm Reed," Soval explained. "The gestures are meant as a help for T'Pol to understand the dynamics of the game. As you will surely know, Hoshi_-sama_, we Vulcans are not very adept at applying intuition."

Soval allowed himself a short indulgence of taking pleasure in the bright smile that was returned for his using the traditional honorific of her native country. He would never voice the thought, but he took great pleasure in working with this remarkable and energetic young female.

Had he been a century younger he could perhaps even have succumbed to her charms on a more intimate level, but that part of his character had died decades ago when the High Command had forced apart his relationship with Asuka_-chan. _In so many more ways than just the same ancestry, this young woman reminded him of the female he once desired above all. Momentarily overcome by emotion when the memories returned of how this association ended, he surreptitiously wiped away an errant tear, but to his abject horror, the young woman had noticed.

=/\=

Malcolm Reed was more than pleased. Intimidated by the huge crowd the opposing team were running about like headless chicken. This was a game where T'Pol's lack of experience would not have made the slightest difference, as she had all the space in the world. The opposing defenders couldn't stand further from her if she had leprosy. There were still twenty minutes to go and the Vulcan had just finalized a fine hat-trick with a thundering thirty yards finish. Together with Masterson's two goals and the penalty kick he had scored himself they were a massive six-nil up and the opposing players were totally devastated.

As they had arranged beforehand for the case of a safe result before time, the coach signaled a double change. Numbers six and fifty-seven were shown for exit – T'Pol and himself. So shortly after the incident with the Vulcans, it had been planned as a measure to get the Vulcan away from the stadium before the end of the game. This would thwart the plans of anyone lurking about somewhere, perhaps waiting to strike once the visitors were heading for the exit. That 'anyone' could be the Vulcans or even Monrovich and his henchmen. They had shown no sign of making a move, but he'd been part of the Section long enough to discount no options.

A deafening roar and applause filled the stadium when he and T'Pol jogged towards the side-line to be substituted. He couldn't suppress the smile when T'Pol raised her arm to acknowledge the crowd, which even increased the feedback. The Vulcan had truly arrived in the team.

"Get her home safely," he heard Trip demand, and acknowledged the request with a thumbs-up. Obviously the American was planning to take his job as tactical trainer seriously and stay until the end of the game.

=/\=

"Is it inappropriate if a lowly ensign invites the Vulcan Ambassador for a cup of tea?" the young human in control of the vehicle asked, causing one of his eyebrows to creep up slightly.

Soval had accepted Hoshi's invitation to travel with her as he frankly was not looking forward to being exposed to Maxwell's overwhelming enthusiasm all the way back to the Vulcan compound. The game had been a resounding success and his human friend's emotional reaction had been too much to bear.

"It is not at all inappropriate, Hoshi-_sama_," he answered, and got another bright smile in return.

"Hoshi-_sama_ is a bit too formal," she corrected him. "It would mean you're looking up to me. I think Hoshi-_san_ is more appropriate. I would also be okay if you called me Hoshi_-chan_."

"Would the latter not be overly… intimate?" Soval asked, knowing that the suffix -_chan_ was a very private way to address someone.

"I offered it, didn't I?" the young female returned with yet another agreeable demonstration of contentment.

"Very well, Hoshi-_chan_," he answered, trying the new address. "I would be honored to have a cup of tea with you."

=/\=

"This plan of yours…," Malcolm said as he directed the ground car towards the Starfleet neighborhood.

"I was of the impression that you stopped surveillance of Charles and me," came the acerbic reply from the back seat.

"We did, but we kept tabs on Soval. He's fair game. You didn't expect the Section to miss something this big, did you?"

"Does the V'Shar know?" she asked.

"The V'Shar thinks that Soval is about to take down our team to get you back in line," Malcolm said with a snicker. "It's amazing how easily you can feed them a bullshit story as long as it sounds 'logical'."

"Fascinating."

"Anyway, T'Pol. What I'm getting at. This isn't a pleasure cruise and you need some muscle. Not to mention that Soval isn't the only one who wants to see V'Las removed from power. I'm going with you."

"There seem to be a surprising number of volunteers for this endeavor," she replied dryly.

=/\=

Hoshi came back into the living room carrying the jug of tea. Considering who was her guest, she had decided to keep the shirt on. Trip and T'Pol were one thing, but baring them in front of the Ambassador would be stretching it.

They drank their tea in silence for a while, but she could sense that her guest was waiting for her to open the talk; and not being one to beat around the bush, she went straight for the bulls-eye.

"I'm not the first Japanese girl you've had contact with, am I? You're far too knowledgeable about our customs."

She heard him sigh almost imperceptibly.

"No you are not," he admitted and she was surprised by how vulnerable his voice sounded. "I do not, however, trust my emotional control to speak about it. Nor do I think it would be prudent to burden you with the gravity of these memories."

"That's the point, Soval," she replied, omitting the title deliberately and ignoring his stunned look she took his hands. "Back there in the stadium, you nearly cried. It must take a lot to let someone as controlled as you are fill up. There is a terribly sad story behind this and it is poisoning your _katra_."

She could easily see he was fighting against it, but citing the text about V'Car that she had read to him from one of the clan's oldest scrolls did it. The text in question told the story of a Vulcan who had never grieved for his wife and finally offered himself as prey to a _sehlat_ in agony over his loss.

"It's been fifty years since Asuka-_chan _performed the _seppuku_ ritual," he explained and Hoshi took the cup from his shaking hands. Although she had encouraged him to let his emotions run free, hearing the Vulcan's voice break was still a harrowing experience.

"I killed her."

"Soval, _seppuku_ means she killed herself," Hoshi said, gently stroking the back of his hand.

"I was the reason for her ending her life."

Her heart ached. "What happened?"

"We… we had a strong affection for each other, but the High Command…"

Soval's recollection stopped and Hoshi was taken aback by the grimace of sheer rage on the Vulcan's ravaged face.

She looked on in horror as the Vulcan jumped up and started to smash her furniture to pieces with his bare hands.

"They made me undergo the fullara!" _*__crash__!*_ "It'didn't work!" _*crash__!*_ "So cowardly…" _*crash__!*_ "I pretended I had forgotten her!" *_crash__!_*

More and more of her apartment's interior was reduced to rubble at the hands of the raging Vulcan. It was a good thing that she didn't keep any really valuable items here. They were all back home in Okinawa.

"Because of my cowardice… she chose to die!" the Vulcan screamed in agony, still pounding the remaining furniture. He didn't even realize that both his hands were bleeding. If anyone needed a reminder just how strong Vulcan emotions were – there it was.

"_Kroikah, Tela'at!_" Hoshi shouted, trying to stop him before he could seriously harm himself.

He stopped and looked at her in terror, swaying back and forth on his feet unsteadily. Hoshi reached over and grabbed a few cushions from the sofa, one of the few items of furniture he had not destroyed. Quickly she piled them up on the floor in front of her and waved Soval to come to her.

Without any words spoken, the exhausted Vulcan fell down and his head came to rest in her lap. Gently stroking his grey hair, she waited until exhaustion had taken him to the night.

It was a long time before she felt sure he was too deeply asleep to stir when she laid him down so that she could fetch what was needed from her First Aid kit.

"God almighty, Soval, no wonder you want to overthrow that government," she muttered, while applying some bandages to his hands. Even then, he didn't wake.

Maybe it was just as well. In sleep, he could forget the sorrow.

=/\=

When Trip and T'Pol entered Hoshi's quarters it looked as if its occupants had staged a veritable brawl, but apart from the bandages on the contrite-looking Vulcan who greeted them, there were no signs of injuries on either of them.

"What happened?" T'Pol demanded.

As Trip listened to Hoshi's recollection of events he thought that if he didn't know better, he'd believe Soval was wishing right now that the ground would open and swallow him.

"This was an extremely dangerous endeavor," T'Pol began to lecture both Hoshi and Soval, but Trip was not in the mood for bickering.

"Stop it, T'Pol," he demanded. It wasn't loud or brash, in fact it was a rather softly spoken demand, but it made her sit up, mainly because he so rarely ordered her to do anything.

"I don't think Hoshi did that because she fancied redecorating her flat," he continued and looked at the Ambassador. "First of all, Soval, how are _you_ doing?"

"While I… feel… liberated in a way, I now have the destruction of Hoshi-_chan_'s residence on my conscience."

Trip was startled for a moment. He'd known Hoshi long enough to know what meaning the address had and he doubted the Vulcan would have used such a private way to refer to her on his own decision. The way he hesitated to use the word 'feel' was of course normal for a Vulcan. For them, admitting to having feelings in public was anathema, much more so for someone as controlled as Soval.

"Surak said that there are emotions you can neither master nor control. They have to be purged," Hoshi insisted, looking at Soval still quite fondly considering that he had turned most of her interior design into firewood.

"Have the same texts not spoken about what happens if a Vulcan loses control over his emotions?" T'Pol asked. "We cannot distinguish between sentient beings and inanimate objects in such case. With all respect to your noble intentions, you put yourself in grave danger."

"Another lie perpetrated by the High Command," Soval piped up in defense of Hoshi. "I indeed was unable to control myself in many ways, but I was quite aware of her presence. I believe Hoshi-_chan_ will be able to confirm that I stepped away from her, despite my rage."

"Which was a good thing," she added with a chuckle. "Those ugly shelves and the desk were supposed to go out anyway at some point, but the coffee table is one of the few pieces of my furniture I actually like."

"So, did it help?" Trip asked and he could see that it cost Soval some effort to speak about it.

"It is still difficult to speak of such things," the Vulcan started carefully, addressing Hoshi. "But I believe I am now able to start grieving for the one I lost. I am most grateful for what you did and I will of course replace what I destroyed."

To Trip's and – if her raised eyebrows were anything to go by – even more so T'Pol's surprise, the grey-haired Vulcan took Hoshi's hand. Hoshi just smiled back at him warmly, and he'd be damned if it didn't look like the old Ambassador was quite enjoying that.

=/\=

Trip drove Hoshi's ground car back to their place. As Hoshi and Soval were busy cleaning up her place to remove the aftermath of last night, she had lent him her small vehicle with the instruction of bringing it back to her by late afternoon after they had met their 'contact' in preparation for the mission to Vulcan.

Bringing it back would be quite practical as she had invited them back for the evening – for a bonfire for which Soval had 'graciously' provided the firewood. According to her ideas the Vulcans could use the occasion to have a 'real meditation candle', while he was supposed to bake and eat stick-bread with her, something he'd not done since he was a kid. Sometimes Hoshi had the weirdest ideas.

"The two of them will break the record for age-difference, won't they?" he quipped. "He's what? A hundred and thirty years older than Hoshi?"

"Are you insinuating that Soval has a romantic interest in your sister?" T'Pol asked back from the passenger seat.

Trip had to smile. It was a good thing that she had accepted the peculiar nature of his friendship with the young linguist and in true T'Pol-style, she had simply declared Hoshi his sister and begun referring to her as such.

"I'd say not until yesterday," he said thoughtfully. "I doubt he'd have been capable of openin' up his broken heart, but Hoshi seems on a pretty good way to mend it. And you don't have to be Siegmund Freud to see that the two of them are quite comfortable in each other's company. That he spends the day at her place should be a hint."

"Soval has no cardiovascular deficiencies that I am aware of."

"It's a figure of speech, T'Pol," he explained as he turned into their driveway. "Until yesterday he couldn't even grieve for the woman that the High Command separated him from. Now that he can, at some point he'll be open to new options at some point in the future."

"An interesting theory," she conceded. "I believe there is an easy way to determine the viability of your theory - at least where your sister is concerned."

"How so?" he asked, stopping the vehicle in the driveway of their home.

"She was wearing a shirt in his presence," she replied drily. "Once it comes off, your theory will become viable."

Trip laughed as he was helping T'Pol out of the car, but the laughter died down immediately when a hooded figure walked over to them. They either had arrived a few minutes after their mysterious guest, or trouble was brewing. For safety he grabbed and unlocked the small phaser in his pocket that Reed had given him, 'just in case'…

When the stranger threw back the hood their visitor was revealed to be a Vulcan, and T'Pol froze.

"Mother!"


	7. Preparations

"Perhaps we should go inside?" Trip offered as T'Pol was still doing a pretty decent impression of Lot's wife.

"A sensible suggestion, Charles," T'Pol's mother agreed.

Oh dear, this lady had not come unprepared. But at least she was not calling him Lieutenant Tucker or even nastier names. As far as Vulcans were concerned, this was already a sort of success. He unlocked the door and gestured his guest to come in. T'Pol followed after her, looking at him in confusion.

"I take it you're the contact we were supposed to meet?" he offered neutrally, as he helped T'Pol's mother out of the jacket. Considering she had allegedly not been on Earth before, she accepted his gentlemanly gesture with much more equanimity than T'Pol had, when he had practiced it the first time on her – many moons ago.

"Indeed I am," she replied, offering her hand – much to his surprise. He took and shook it.

"I am T'Les, T'Pol's mother," she introduced herself. "But my daughter - obviously - already stated that."

"Nice to meet you, ma'am; I'm Charles Tucker III, T'Pol's… um…"

"'Mate' is the word you are searching for, young man. Do all humans number their children?"

Trip was startled for a moment before he could collect his wits.

"Um, no ma'am; It's a tradition over here that the first-born male gets the name of the father. As generations add up it becomes a bit tricky to keep track of who's who, especially now that humans live to a hundred years more often than in the past. So we'd end up with three Charles Tuckers. That's why my granddad is called Charles Tucker senior, my dad Charles Tucker junior and, for lack of a special word, I'm the third."

"Most peculiar," the Vulcan said, sitting down when he offered her a seat on the couch. "Following that logic your first male offspring will be named Charles Tucker the fourth?"

"We haven't quite come to cross that bridge, ma'am," he answered, somewhat abashed, and started to prepare tea. "Hell, we don't even know if it's possible, bein' from different species an' all."

"Not to mention that the pertinent biological activity is not available to us, mother," T'Pol chipped in acerbically, and he could hear the sheer frustration in her voice. Whatever happened to 'Vulcans don't speak of such things'? But then, this was her mother, he reminded himself.

"You truly have not mated?" T'Les asked a little too straightforward for his liking.

"Not in a way that the High Command could frame T'Pol for," he answered, sufficiently vaguely. "Did you not hear about that ridiculous medical test the High Command demanded?"

"Kuvak informed me about it," she confirmed. "But I had assumed that the result had merely been manipulated to fit the High Command's expectations."

Trip closed his eyes, but he couldn't keep down the anger at the implication.

"With all due respect, ma'am," he said and turned around to fix the inquisitive in-law-to-be with an enraged glare. "I know most Vulcans think we humans can't keep it in our pants for any length of time, but the results were genuine and I protest the implication. T'Pol and I are havin' enough problems with the fact that some run-down government dictates what we can and what we can't do in private. We certainly don't need to be made fun of!"

"I ask forgiveness, Charles." His guest back-pedaled. "It was not you I was doubtful of. As a Vulcan female I know very well how difficult it must be for T'Pol to resist certain biological instincts."

"She manages," he replied curtly, not really mollified by her half-assed apology. "But to cut this short: I doubt you traveled sixteen light years to discuss our intimate life, or lack thereof."

"Of course not," T'Les agreed. "But the longer this goes on, the more important it becomes to overturn the government. The High Command refuses to annul T'Pol's betrothal. Soval and Kuvak have both advocated a swift annulment, but the government refuses to do so."

"Hell of a reason to stage a rebellion," Trip muttered to himself, but his thoughts were cut short by T'Pol's heated question.

"On which grounds did they refuse?"

"It would infuriate you too much to repeat the illogical reasoning of the High Command. Suffice it to say that your only hope is to make this mission a success."

"Seriously, I've seen a hell of a lot of illogical things in my life," Trip said, having finished the tea. "But your High Command really takes the cake."

"In that we are in full agreement," T'Pol's mother replied, and he wasn't sure if she really had understood the phrase or just guessed from the anger in his voice.

"So how do we go about it?" he asked while pouring the drink for the two Vulcans. "And more importantly: why were you sent as our contact? As T'Pol's mother I'd have thought you're the first the High Command keeps track of."

"They certainly would, if they had the chance," she replied. "However, I have been in hiding for close to two years now."

"That explains why you have not been answering any communications," T'Pol noted drily.

"What it _doesn't_ explain is how you got here without anyone noticin'. Your Vulcan clothes don't really help blendin' in, not to mention leavin' your home world unnoticed."

"Not the entire fleet is loyal to the High Command anymore," T'Les explained. "The Syrranites – that is what our movement is called – have sympathizers in all parts of Vulcan society. It was not too difficult to be smuggled aboard a science vessel. The High Command is obsessed with the military, and generally ignores what the scientific fleet is doing as long as their ships do not interfere with military movements."

"Well, if you have a whole underground organization, how come you need a human for help on your own planet?" Trip asked doubtfully.

"We need you because, unlike the High Command, we are aware of our limitations. Vulcans work logically and methodically. Not only have we exhausted all peaceful means to undermine the High Command, we have also failed to find the artifact that Soval informed us about. It was also reasoned that Humans are much closer in their character to Vulcans at the Time of Awakening than contemporary Vulcans are. Involving humans is therefore the logical conclusion."

"Sorry if it sounds petty, but I never thought I'd hear a Vulcan ask for help," Trip said with a smirk. "I can understand your reasonin', but I fail to see where I should be capable of doin' what you guys can't. After all, it's your planet."

"Soval described you as resourceful," T'Les replied, looking over the rim of her cup, much like T'Pol often did. "As you will have noticed, that is not an attribute that Vulcans have in abundance. The young linguist of whom Soval is speaking fairly fondly would also be an invaluable help as there are many inscriptions at the historic T'Karath monastery that we are unable to decode."

He sent T'Pol a knowing look when T'Les mentioned Soval's fascination with Hoshi.

"Lieutenant Malcolm Reed has also offered his help," the younger Vulcan supplied, minimizing to a raised eyebrow her reaction to his clandestine communication.

"Does he have any qualifications that could be helpful?" T'Les asked.

"Without him T'Pol would now be in a dungeon of the High Command god-knows-where. How's that sound for qualification?" Trip asked.

T'Pol's mother looked at him blankly and he related the event that had given him his bruises.

=/\=

"That's not good," T'Les heard the driver of the vehicle say when they were indicated to stop by an officer of an entity unknown to her. The writing on the officer's car was 'Police'.

"What is happening?" she asked.

"I might have been a bit too fast," Charles explained. "And now I have to come up with a good line or in an hour the High Command will know where you are."

This, however, proved no longer necessary when two cars fortuitously collided on the opposite side of the road, and the officer waved them to go on, swiftly moving to the site of the accident.

"You have to give it to Malcolm: he _is_ good," she heard Charles say admiringly as he accelerated the vehicle without delay.

"Indeed, he is," her daughter obviously agreed.

"This was a deliberate decoy?" she asked as realization came. Had her daughter not identified the unknown human as Malcolm Reed before?

"Most certainly," T'Pol explained.

=/\=

T'Pol's eyebrow went up as they entered the home of the young linguist Hoshi Sato for the second time this day. It had only been a little over five hours since they had left the home's resident and Soval behind and gone to meet their contact, who turned out to be her mother. Now, upon their return, the interior of the dwelling was found to have been restored in full, and Soval had obviously not been parsimonious; even some of the interior features he had not destroyed had been replaced with new items.

She watched as Soval and T'Les conversed quietly with the young ensign and then moved towards them.

"T'Les and I have a great deal to discuss," the elder explained. "We will therefore not be able to accompany you this evening. It is advisable that you use today and tomorrow to rest and prepare for the journey. We will leave in two days."

She acknowledged the advice with a nod, when Charles had a question of his own.

"How're you gonna go back to the compound? You can hardly walk."

"Hoshi-_chan_ will provide transport."

"And you two could raid the fridge to start on some food for the evening," the young human added, patting Charles's arm. You know better than I do what T'Pol likes to eat. If you like a beer, there's a crate in the pantry."

"Can we raid that, too? The pantry, I mean…" Charles asked, clearly amused.

"If you must," the young linguist answered, smiling at him. "But leave something for the next two days. I'm scrawny enough as it is."

=/\=

"Did you notice that your sister was wearing a different shirt than in the morning?" T'Pol asked, washing fruit, while he was cutting bell peppers into strips.

"You're too hung up on that, T'Pol," he said. "Before they went online shopping they cleaned up the apartment and one thing we humans learn quite quickly if we're in contact with Vulcans is that we shower rather one time too many than one time too few. She's simply showered and changed after cleaning out the remains of her former furniture. The two of them seem to keep you thinking."

"It does," she admitted.

"Why? If anything they're closer in life expectancy than we are. We'll probably die something like half a century apart. Wouldn't happen with them, and Soval seems to bear his age quite well."

"Soval is only a hundred forty years old," T'Pol explained. "Vulcans do not continually decline, like humans. Except for outward changes and slight deterioration of the skeleton, we hardly lose mental or physical strength until the age of one hundred and eighty. However, from that point onward the decline is fairly sharp."

"Lucky you," Trip said with a snort. "I'll probably start having creaky bones in twenty years."

"The more important it is that you follow my advice of adopting a healthy lifestyle. I have met humans that were quite agile until a fairly old age. Perhaps you could decide to be a training partner to Soval."

"What?" he asked and looked at her with bemusement. "Sorry to be so blunt, but Soval certainly doesn't look like he's seen the inside of a gym too often."

"Soval is indeed fairly portly," his better half agreed. "This is why he _will_ start physical exercises if he is really romantically interested in Hoshi. Every Vulcan will claim we are not prone to vanity, but it is not the truth."

"Who woulda thunk it," he said with a snicker. "I figured as much when you started to let your hair grow longer."

"I am quite aware of your displeasure with the traditional Vulcan haircut."

"So do you think something's up between them?"

"It is fairly obvious that Soval is quite comfortable in her presence. I do, however, think that it will take some time until he would really contemplate a new relationship. He has barely started to grieve for the other woman and it took drastic measures to enable him to do so."

"Well, you once started out being 'comfortable in my presence'," he pointed out with a wink.

"You were… persistent," she replied drily, but the raised eyebrow told him she really enjoyed the banter.

"So is Hoshi," he said. "There are only two men she would invite into her home – me or someone she's definitely interested in."

"Interesting."

=/\=

T'Pol walked outside to look what Charles was doing and saw him construct a peculiar pyramid over a sizeable pile of wood that once belonged to the dwelling's furniture. Since the wooden remains of the house's interior were broken down into small chunks, she knew this could only have been done by Soval as the young human female certainly lacked the strength to do that and she saw no axe or any other such device in the small backyard.

The small area was mainly covered with carefully groomed grass, although a circular portion around the intended fire site had been dug up. The whole area was surrounded by a high, thick hedge, most likely to ward off inquisitive looks from adjoining residences, which was a good thing considering the young woman's unique stance on what parts of her clothing were strictly necessary.

The construction Charles was working on explained the two packages that had just been delivered after a quick purchase via the house's sole terminal. Three large rods had been assembled and formed a pyramid above the pile of wood.

"Would you explain the purpose of the construction?" she asked.

"Suspended barbecue grill," Charles answered, obviously pleased with having had this idea. "I hope you won't mind if Hoshi and I put a few slabs of meat on it?"

"As long as it is sufficiently separated from the peculiar dishes you have prepared for me, I will not be offended."

"They're called shashlyks," he explained. "Normally there would mostly be chunks of meat on them, separated by bell peppers, onions and mushrooms, but yours are strictly vegetarian. I just switched the meat chunks for different variants of tofu."

"Considering you started to prepare them in our home yesterday, you seem to have foreseen this evening, which is illogical as we did not know about what happened and that there would be this happening until this morning?"

"I _didn't_ know at the time," he said, and she could hear the slight frustration in his voice. "I'd originally planned to slap us a few veggie-burgers together, so I could at least eat something that _looks_ like meat for a change."

"Why did you not speak to me about it?" she asked. "My intention is to help you lead a healthier lifestyle, not to make you disagreeable. I had assumed you had voluntarily switched to a vegetarian diet."

"He didn't say anything because he's Trip," someone said from behind and T'Pol saw that it was the house's resident, who had returned from delivering Soval and her mother to the Vulcan compound.

She looked at her, raising an eyebrow to request further clarification.

"I don't need that anymore," their young host declared and removed her shirt, a predictable move considering that the Ambassador was no longer in attendance. Looking over at Charles, T'Pol saw that he continued his work as if nothing out of the ordinary had transpired.

"As for this goofball over there," the young woman declared, pointing at Charles, "he wouldn't say anything if you developed a habit of stabbing him with a fork every night. At the height of summer, when it's really hot, I sometimes go completely naked. You would think he'd say something about the fact that it makes him uncomfortable..."

Again T'Pol's eyebrow rose. Another new facet of the strange relationship between the two humans had been added, although she could easily understand why Charles would become uncomfortable when presented with the uncovered primary sexual characteristics of a female he considered a surrogate sister. She could quite vividly remember his obvious bodily reaction when she had first presented herself to him completely undressed. It was not a reaction he would tolerate if caused by a sibling, biological or surrogate.

"Anyway," the young female continued. "No, he just stopped dropping by when it was hot. I had to guess it."

She could see that Charles was uncomfortable with such details being divulged, as his face turned a fairly dark shade of crimson.

"As a linguist, maybe you can influence his communication skills positively," T'Pol remarked. "Obviously they could use some… improvement."

"I'll leave you two to slag me off," Charles said, having completed his construction work. There was no malice in his voice, but she could easily hear that he was not entirely comfortable. On the way toward the house, he removed his shirt that showed the first stains of sweat.

"I'm using your shower, that okay?" he asked and she saw the young human nod in return.

"There's some shower gel in the bottom drawer and the towels are all fresh."

"You have bathing utensils in storage for Charles?" T'Pol asked, her possessiveness inflamed again by unbidden mental images of the two humans sharing a shower.

"Not for him specifically," her young host replied easily. "Men in general; you never know if you meet someone interesting, and I doubt any man would be fond of my lavender scented soap."

T'Pol remembered the concept of a 'one-night-stand' that the other woman had explained during their long talk about the intimate habits of humans. She was most likely referring to such an instance. It would also explain why there was a beverage in her storage that Charles claimed to be mainly drunk by males.

On the other hand it did not fit with Charles' explanation that his sister was rather discriminate in whom she would invite into her residence, claiming it would only be him or someone she was interested in. Perhaps it was a matter of how long this interest lasted?

"As both of you have removed your shirts – is this a requirement for the ritual?" T'Pol asked, indicating towards the pile of wood.

"I certainly wouldn't be wearing that blouse," the human female supplied, pointing at the garment. "It looks quite expensive and you wouldn't want to spoil it with a spark landing on it."

T'Pol started to unbutton the garment, but was stopped by a gesture from their host.

"I would suggest we go inside and I give you one of my old shirts. If I'm running about topless it won't make a difference for him, but seeing you there will most likely be a reaction and he'd be terribly embarrassed about that, especially in front of me."

She nodded her understanding and followed the human into the house.

=/\=

"Wow, these are good," Hoshi declared, nibbling the hot meat off the skewer. She knew Trip was not the shabbiest cook, but he had outdone himself with the barbecue material.

She saw the nod of agreement from her Vulcan guest, who was gorging on the vegetarian version of Trip's creative variant of shish kebab that according to his earlier explanation originated from the region of Turkish peoples. To her surprise, the Vulcan ate with her hands, although strictly speaking, Trip's 'significant other' was only touching the wooden skewer, nibbling the food off it.

"Ow!" she exclaimed when a drop of hot molten fat landed on her bare breast while she was observing the Vulcan. Quickly wiping the hot goo off, she glared at Trip, who was laughing good-naturedly at her self-inflicted misfortune.

"Maybe I should have kept the shirt on," she grumbled as the hot drop had left a fairly painful spot on her skin.

"You and keeping a shirt on," he cackled. "That's two things that don't belong in the same sentence."

Oh, it had been a while since they had bantered that way…

"Says the guy who followed me like a lost puppy through the desert when I ditched my shirt," she shot back, smiling at him.

"There were the other fifty guys, who followed us when you let them hang out," he replied, not missing a beat.

"You undressed during a Starfleet training mission?" T'Pol asked and it wasn't hard to detect the disbelief in her voice.

"Oh, you bet," Hoshi said, laughing at the memory. "It was like, I don't know, forty degrees centigrade when we did the survival test in Australia. I was sweating like a pig, so I just took off the shirt. What else would you do when you're hot? I was still putting on the sun screen when we noticed we had an audience."

"We?" the Vulcan asked back.

"I was teamed with Trip. For him it was nothing special. Hoshi without a shirt is the default setting for him, but all the other guys, at least those that didn't play poker, had only ever heard the rumors. Let's just say, I garnered a bit of male attention."

"I can imagine," the Vulcan replied drily, looking over the rim of her tea cup.

"We had loads of fun back then," Hoshi said. "But then he became the engine whizz-kid and he barely drops by anymore."

"He indeed puts too much emphasis on his work at times."

"You realize I'm sitting right here?" Trip asked.

"Drink your beer, buddy, and don't interrupt when the girls are talking," she shot back, grinning at his mock-upset face. She knew very well that he was loving every minute of it. Not only had it been some time since they had a chance to engage in their favorite rollicking banter, it was also obvious that T'Pol was growing more and more comfortable with their friendship. Many human women wouldn't have been able to make the transition so easily.

"It is reassuring to know that there will be someone with us who knows how to guide him through the desert," the Vulcan said and Hoshi could have sworn she heard an undercurrent of amusement.

=/\=

For the fifth time Ambassador Soval caught himself looking at the clock. Such restlessness was not only unusual for him, it was also considered unseemly by most Vulcans. Neither would it accelerate Hoshi-_chan_'s arrival, which had been announced for 'late afternoon', a frustratingly inaccurate definition. Considering she had had her fire-ritual last night, it was to be suspected that she wanted to sleep longer than usual and had therefore reserved some latitude with her definition as to when she would arrive to help him select which scrolls and artifacts they would take on their mission to Vulcan.

"She fascinates you, does she not?" T'Les asked the one question he would not appreciate being asked at that point, but the wife of his deceased brother had always been able to tell his thoughts.

"There are instances when your talent of knowing my inner thoughts is most inconvenient," he said. "But to answer your question – yes she does."

"It is only to be expected," his guest said. "As the only one to have met the human called Asuka, I can tell that in many ways she resembles the one you once desired. Their exuberant personalities are much the same and the young woman is even more attractive."

"Evaluating outward appearance is an emotional indulgence," he said, noticing that it did not sound as convincing as he would have preferred. To his surprise he heard a snort, much like the ones he often heard from his unruly niece.

"Are you so skilled in deceiving yourself, Soval?" T'Les asked. "Of course Vulcans appreciate beauty, and that does not only involve artifacts or landscapes. Did you really think I would not notice your exhaustion? You were never known to use recreational facilities. Does it not originate in an attempt to improve your appearance that you obviously started physical exercises?"

"Your talent for deducing my thoughts can be infuriating," he admitted.

"Only if you think there is impropriety to your thoughts, Soval. Many Vulcans will detest your interest. I, as your relative, think it is a sign of healing. Never since the High Command interfered three decades ago have you shown any interest in a female. At one hundred and forty you are way too young to live your life alone."

"I am nearly six times her age," he noted, unsatisfied by the fact that he still failed at keeping his voice neutral when the young human was concerned.

"Age is but a number, Soval," she replied and Soval noticed the sincerity of her words. "Unlike T'Pol and Charles, your remaining life spans are comparable and you still have at least four decades left before you decline. It appears to me that you are seeking excuses for not following what your heart tells you."

"How can an internal organ tell me anything?" he asked, confused by T'Les' strange metaphor.

"It is a human saying," his conversation partner explained. "In our attempt to understand ourselves, we also study literature from other planets, including Earth. Humans often attribute romantic interest to their heart, most likely because the biological response to an attractive potential mate is an increase in heart rate. Does your heart beat faster if you encounter young Hoshi, Soval?"

"T'Les," he said sternly, lacking a better way to let her know that she was intruding on very private thoughts.

"It does," she noted drily, much to his chagrin.

=/\=

"Well, one thing is clear – tourism will never catch on on Vulcan," the young human said. "This Forge does sound like even more of a hell hole than Trip says, and he likes to exaggerate when it comes to deserts."

"It is indeed a very hostile environment," Soval agreed, distracted by the fact that – infuriatingly – his heart indeed started to beat faster in the company of the young human female. In fact the organ was working so hard, it was almost painful.

The young woman, who had occupied his thoughts for many days now, was looking over some historic scrolls, trying to create a rudimentary map based on the descriptions in the clan's oldest written records.

Suddenly the human pivoted on her chair and looked him straight in the eyes.

"How long will you make me wait?" she demanded, confusing him. Before he could formulate a reply, the young woman threw her arms around his neck and before he knew what hit him, he felt the sensation of someone else's lips against his own. It was the first time he had experienced that ritual in over three decades.

Surprisingly, he still remembered the technique that Asuka-_chan_ had once taught him, and if the satisfied humming of the diminutive female in his arms was any indication, he was performing it in a satisfactory manner. He himself, however, was not even remotely able to describe the torrent of emotions the gesture stirred in him.

When their lips parted, both of them were breathing heavily, their faces flushed in their respective species' blood color. Her face was flushed pink and Soval was sure that he was 'looking like a pot-plant' – that was how Asuka-_chan _often described his complexion after intimate contact.

He stared at the young woman.

"If you apologize now, I'm going to start crying and slap you," Hoshi said and Soval could not fight what was coming next – for the first time in his adult life, he laughed. His laughter was mixed with tears as both joy and grief gripped him. Unable to control this reaction, he surrendered to the embrace of the young human as he tried to control himself.

=/\=

"Most astonishing, _Tela'at_," T'Pol said, deliberately letting some of her amusement seep into her voice when she saw the Ambassador to Earth exercising strenuously in the gym of the Vulcan Embassy. Despite the rather cool temperature, the older Vulcan was sweating profusely. "I take it Hoshi has taken the initiative?"

"Is it everybody's favorite pastime to discuss my private life?" he asked back in between breaths, and she noted with interest that he did not see any reason to stop his exercise.

"Only for those who wish that you find contentment in it," she replied. "I have seen enough interaction between Hoshi and her 'brother' Charles to know that she would not wait for you to act on your emotions. And seeing that you are working fairly hard for the second consecutive day…"

Her uncle sat up, breathing heavily. "Is there any advice you can offer?"

"With Hoshi there is only one piece of advice," T'Pol explained. "Expect the unexpected, and you might want to prepare controlling your biological reactions. She does not have a habit of wearing too much clothing in her home."

She had to fight the impulse to laugh at her _En'ahr'at's_ blank look.

"Now that she has made her intentions known, I doubt she will be inclined to forego her habit of not wearing a shirt in the sanctity of her home."

"She does not know what such a behavior would do to a Vulcan male, does she?"

"As far as I have come to know her, she would very much welcome the reaction," T'Pol noted drily. "As you asked for advice, I would advise that you be in peak condition if you are alone with her."

With that she left the gym, leaving a rather stunned relative behind.


End file.
